Shore Leave
by Asso
Summary: The Whys and Wherefores
1. Chapter 1

**Shore Leave**

**(The Whys and Wherefores)**

**By Asso**

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* * *

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**Rating:** G (_For now_)

**Genres:** romance, drama, angst (_For now_)

**Keywords:** **FATHER!** And... Well! You will see.

* * *

_**N/A**_

I'm a lucky man.

When I began to write Fics, who helped me? **justTrip'n**.

Then, who else wanted to help me? Let's see. **Linda**, **Aquarius**, **pdsldl**, **Alelou** and finally... **Dinah**.

Just so! **Dinah**, just she, is the beta of this story!

Now, how do you think the shameless Italian male that I am can feel at the thought that such a fantastic maniple of smart and skilful women wanted to aid me?

All kidding aside, I'm very grateful to **Dinah**, who edited this story with the most airy of the hands.

The present story is about a shore leave, sure. But not only about that, and you have to be patient. Anyway, don't worry: all is planned, all is ready.

Well, I'm still the same narcissist, I think.

One last thing. Do you know that Vulcans are divided in clans? **blacknblue** established that!

* * *

**_PART ONE._**

**_Some years before. (We are in 2139) _**

**_DESTINY BEGINS ITS WORK. (Or maybe is it simply continuing the work it started long ago? Very long ago.) _**

************

It was annoying.

The young Vulcan woman who was sitting quietly and dignifiedly among the few Vulcans, who were waiting to be taken to the Vulcan Compound as new members of the Vulcan Ambassador's staff, didn't display any trace of discomfort. Her face was totally deadpan as any Vulcan face has to be, but unequivocally it was annoying and discomforting to have to stay so, under the bombardment of so many noises and of so many voices, coming from a lot of people who were chatting aloud, moving often rashly, while not few a children were running along the floor in a very indecorous way.

It was true that she was sitting into a well delimited area reserved for Vulcans, but it was unbearable that it was necessary to stop and to remain in the middle of San Francisco's spaceport with its chatty Human crowd before getting transported to the Vulcan Compound.

The woman was reflecting to herself.

On the other hand, it would have been completely illogical to build a spaceport only for serving the Vulcan Compound. Illogical and politically incorrect. But, definitely, at least a more comfortable and separate waiting lounge could have been provided, where Vulcans, as Humans' tutors, might be allocated during the wait, instead of having to stay seated under the curious looks of Human people. Curious and not exactly friendly.

Probably there was something premeditated and calculated in all this, if rumours were true that Humans didn't willingly tolerate Vulcans' tutorship. If what she had learned about Humans squared with truth, it was perfectly possible that when Earth Government decided to construct a spaceport in order to better serve Starfleet and its space exploration plans, the faction prevailed which resented the constraints many Starfleet Officers thought Vulcans were interposing between the Human desire to fly freely into space and the realization of this desire, affirming that Humans were not yet ready for that.

So, considering that Humans were absolutely aware of the importance of privacy for Vulcans and of their unease when they have to face a crowd, disarray and public curiosity, nothing strange that someone had contrived such sort of - the woman had to seek in the Human vocabulary to find the exact term, so foreign to her and to her mind - of _pique_ against those who were deemed by many Human VIPs as an unwarrantable obstacle for Earthmen's ambitions.

And this pique was definitely consistent with the childlike conduct she knew Humans often showed, even if her great-grandmother, T'Mir, disagreed with this vision about Humans, which she defined as "foolishly simplistic." These were her second foremother's own words. The young woman did remember them plainly, although she was really a little child at that time. But the words of the woman, who at that time was approaching one hundred and ninety years, and the tone in which she had uttered them had remained graven in her young mind.

Anyway, childlike conduct or not, most likely this pique was compatible with that famous "sense of humour" Humans were so proud of, if what she had tried to understand about it from her teachers and from many educational files didn't deceive her. But it was just an impression because it was very hard to comprehend something about this "sense of humour," to elicit something reasonable and understandable from those strange and unclear phrases which Humans call wisecracks or jokes, accompanied by smiles less or more sly, and not rarely by sonorous laughs.

Nevertheless it would be illogical to deny that this "sense of humour" was intriguing. She wanted to be capable of understanding it.

She was curious. She had been curious all along and of everything, like her father said her great-grandmother was.

And, to tell the true she was particularly curious about Humans themselves. She had been so since she had listened to the words her great-grandmother told her mother and her father. She wasn't able to remember well, obviously, because she was too young at that time, but she was able to remember the perception that her second foremother seemed... fascinated by Humans. She was able to remember all that, as well as the disapproving eyes of her mother and the benevolent and interested look of her father.

Her father...

Her father had gone. Long ago now. And still she missed him. He was able to understand her. He didn't always rebuke her because her emotions were so often just under the surface. He...

The young Vulcan shook herself mentally.

Still feeling sad because of an event which had occurred so long ago was illogical, and even more so because death is a natural thing, against which nothing can be done and which is part of life itself.

And... this new job on Earth had nothing to do with her own desires. It was only a matter of duty, nothing else. In reality, Humans were merely an immature race, almost barbaric in some respects, which, maybe, just because of that, was able to attract a young Vulcan woman too much inclined to be... emotional. She was aware of this flaw in her, and that her mother was right. But life had been a great teacher for her, and now she knew how to handle her irrational wishes, her feelings. She now knew that there is only duty and ambitions which must find their realization in this duty.

But, unwelcome, images and sensations of her past life came suddenly to her mind.

Duty...

Because of duty she had done things she felt ashamed of.

Duty.

Duty is...

Once again the young Vulcan woman shook herself.

Duty is duty. The Vulcan way. She was here now because of duty and nothing else.

Her own desires, her own... feelings, her... emotions had nothing to do with her presence on Earth. She simply knew that she was at the turning point of her career. It was a great thing being chosen by Ambassador Soval as his scientific attaché. The man was well-known for his ability in choosing his assistants, and Earth, a young world whose youthful impetuosities had to be led wisely and knowledgeably, was for better or worse an important ally for Vulcan. If she was capable of acting in the right way, the young woman most likely could come close, sooner or later, to fulfilling her fair aspirations. She could become a well-respected teacher, a quiet scientist like her mother wanted her to be. Yes. No... no more adventures, distant worlds, strange discoveries, un-Vulcan-like exploration excitements.

She could become a perfect component of the High Command.

Sure.

In the well settled world of her race.

Well settled. Not like the seething world of the Human race.

Surely... surely, yes... it wouldn't be pleasant to move through this world. No. Without... without doubt. The childlike attraction she had felt for this world would fade when she met the irrational members of this race. That's for sure.

Such an emotional race. Such an illogical race. Such a... smelling race.

Suddenly, the young Vulcan became alerted.

There was... a smell.

Strange. Powerful. She had never been triggered by male Pon Far, but she was able to recognize this sensation - powerfully... _terribly_... masculine.

The woman felt immediately ashamed of this thought and of the fact itself that she wasn't able to suppress her emotions once more.

But the smell was there, strong and palpable.

And impossible to ignore.

It wasn't a mere scent, simply a puissant and manlike scent. It was a... a call. It was saying... I AM HERE FOR YOU. I CLAIM YOU. I AM YOUR FATE.

The Vulcan woman's eyes snapped open almost as by their own volition, searching for the source of the scent.

And found it.

And she recognized that the smell wasn't coming from a Vulcan male. The smell's waves were coming from... from a young Human male who was walking along the corridor, looking for something, and casting only a distracted glance at the group of Vulcans who were placidly sitting in their places. His hair was blond, indeed different from Vulcan males. And... and he... he looked handsome.

The young Vulcan woman wasn't able to help but follow the blond Human with her eyes.

He halted in front of the information point and coughed slightly, attempting politely to gain the attention of the gracious and very young Human woman, practically an unripe girl, who was sitting behind the reception desk, focused on her job.

Stronger than her Vulcan control, the... the necessity to see and to hear compelled the young Vulcan to look hard and to prick up her ears, in an attempt to understand what was happening to that... to that Human male.

The Human woman working in the information point raised her eyes and saw the blond-haired man. And she immediately smiled radiantly.

And the Vulcan woman felt something strange inside. A... a sort of pang. Unknown. Hurting.

Her keen hearing permitted her to perfectly follow the conversation between the young Human male and... and that... that shameless Human woman.

* * *

"_Ooohhh, good morning! How can I help you?"_

"_Well. I'm looking for the Starfleet terminal."_

"_Ooooohhhhh, you are one of those i-n-t-r-e-p-i-d men who wants to go into space, aren't you?"_

"_Well, Ma'am, I would like very much to be one of them. At present I'm simply a new recruit. I'm an engineer and Starfleet accepted my enlistment. _

"_Ooooooohhhhhhh! I knew Starfleet had good taste!"_

"_Uh?"_

"_I mean... surely you will be a great engineer."_

"_I hope." _

"_I'm sure"_

* * *

Shameless! No other way could be found to express the indecorous deportment the Human woman was showing for the blond Human man. The Vulcan had studied hard. She was capable of recognizing that genre of behaviour the Human woman was displaying. She was... flirting. Yes! Shamefacedly and in the open air. With a man she saw for the first time.

And the fact that this man was... was attractive wasn't a good enough reason to act thus.

* * *

"_You're indeed gentle. I hope I won't disappoint anyone. Anyway... about Starfleet terminal?"_

"_Oh! Ahem! Sure! You have to go to the reserved terminal. It is on the third level."_

"_Third? That's me. I'm... Well, my real name is not important, everyone calls me Trip."_

"_Trip?"_

"_Yes. Trip."_

"_Well... Trip... are you alone?"_

* * *

Shameless woman!

* * *

"_My family is far away and I don't have friends here. Yes, I'm alone."_

"_Well, if you need anything, I'm here."_

* * *

**Shameless woman!**

* * *

"_Oh... Uh... thanks."_

"_Here is my phone number, if you think it would be of help." _

* * *

**Shameless woman!**

* * *

"_Uh... sure. Thanks. If I need your help..."_

"_You will be able to call me. For... whatever you need." _

* * *

**Shameless woman! **

S-h-a-m-e-l-e-s-s!

Shame...

All of a sudden the young Vulcan realized the incredible course of her thoughts and of her actions and almost jumped. But... but what was she doing? And thinking? She was focusing her attention on a conversation between two Humans, spying on them, disapproving mentally of the Human woman's conduct. They were not her business. The Human woman had a right to act the way she wanted to. If she was so fortunate as to meet that handsome man...

_For... fortunate?_

_Handsome?_

The Vulcan began to breathe regularly and quietly, even if discreetly, attempting to control these strange and shameful thoughts which were whirling in her mind.

What was happening to her? How was she able to think about that Human male like he... like he...

She felt abysmally ashamed. Incredulous too. She was Vulcan, not Human. And she was betrothed. To a Vulcan male. Coming from an honoured family. And that male... that male who was arousing these... these sensations... these _unknown_ sensations...

He wasn't a Vulcan male. He was... he was... a... a Human male!

An emotional, illogical, volatile, barbaric... **marvellously smelling Human male!**

"Please, be ready."

The words coming from the intercom did luckily wake the Vulcan woman from her unspeakable thoughts.

"You are about to be taken to the Vulcan Compound."

Every Vulcan stood up, including the young Vulcan woman.

Doors opened toward the shuttle which would transport the small Vulcan group to the Vulcan Compound.

"Please take your place."

Every Vulcan moved to reach his assigned place, according to their job.

But that smell was still there, and while she was walking toward her place, the young Vulcan woman couldn't help but cast a last glance at the blond Human male. He was putting into the small pocket of the horrible, motley shirt he wore, the note that the... the shameless Human woman had given him.

And, before the doors were closed behind her, the Vulcan woman was able to listen to the last words the Human man told that woman.

With a tone which resounded not warm.

"I'll try to remember that."

************

************

**_Time passed. Many things happened. And many are happening and are about to happen. Now we are in 2151._**

************

"Come in."

The young Vulcan woman entered the room and stood respectfully and in silence in front of the desk behind which the Ambassador was seated. She waited patiently and quietly for him to raise his head from the papers he was working on and pay attention to her.

The stern and vigorous man condescended finally to look at her. He did a polite gesture with his hand, inviting her.

"Good morning, T'Pol. Please, sit down. "

The woman followed the invitation, wondering what was so important and unusual that the Ambassador had to summon her in the dark of the night, and she seemed to be the only one he wanted to talk with. In reality, even the Ambassador's deportment was unwonted for him. He wasn't in the habit of inviting his subordinates to sit down in front of him; that was not normal Vulcan etiquette unless there were exceptional circumstances, which required this. And, besides, he sounded... worried. Yes. The woman believed she wasn't deceiving herself. The Ambassador seemed worried and ill-at-ease. And he wanted her to feel comfortable.

Once again, like every time she had to face weird and difficult ordeals, thoughts of her father surfaced in her mind. She had always clung to his memory when she had needed aid and comfort.

And her father had told her many times that she was able to read people, much more than other Vulcans. _("The simple, normal Vulcans, my daughter._") And she was sure that, now, it was one of those times that she was displaying this ability. She was sure that the Ambassador was attempting to smooth someway, to make more agreeable, what he was about to tell her.

Something which was really unpleasant.

Duty. Yet again.

"T'Pol, you were quite harsh with Captain Archer yesterday."

The woman arched her eyebrow. "Ambassador, I simply told him that, before Humans go into deep space and face alien races, they have to prove they are ready..."

"I know, I know." The Ambassador repeated the exact words she had pronounced: "_To look beyond their provincial attitudes and volatile nature."_

"I thought you were in agreement with me. Captain Archer's reply absolutely testified to the truth of my assertion."

"When he said to you that you had no idea how much he was restraining himself from knocking you on your ass?"

There was a strange expression, now, on the Vulcan Ambassador's face. A hint of quiet amusement. Was it possible, by chance, that he had lived with Humans for too long a time?

The woman watched the man without replying, waiting for him to explain what he meant.

He regained his stern and keen expression.

"T'Pol, I'm in agreement with you. You don't even imagine how much I agree with you."

The young woman felt something, some kind of foreboding, running as a disagreeable shiver through her spine.

"And, in fact, since Humans seem to want to pursue their purpose whatever the cost, I suggested to the High Command that a Vulcan should go with the Humans on their ship as an observer, someone capable of preventing them from making mistakes."

The shiver intensified.

"The High Command shared my concern and accepted my suggestion. Even more, after hearing the exchange between you and the Enterprise's Captain, I told the High Command that the most suitable person for this task is you, T'Pol."

(*_No! _*)

"You are capable of standing your ground with Captain Archer. To tell the truth, I got the impression that he seemed to be without arguments before you, judging from the rapidity he lost his patience because of your statement. He did not answer back to you by means of solid reasons, but only with that annoying stab. This has great value for the achievement of our purpose. If you will be capable of using that wisely, you will be able to dominate every situation. That man is strong and artful and clever, too, definitely. But surely not to such an extent that he can get the best of you. He is not Admiral Forrest. Rather, you will probably have to beware of his Chief Engineer and friend, Charles Tucker the Third. It is likely that he likes Vulcans even less than his Captain, but, in addition, our observers report - and I can personally testify to it - that he is more stubborn and, above all, smarter than Archer. Luckily, however, he is young and countrified. And a little too impetuous. That will play in your favour, I think."

(*_No. Not this! _*)

"Your credentials and your experiences are the best proof that you are the most qualified person for this job."

The deadpan, immovable face of the young Vulcan didn't show the smallest sign of the inner turmoil that the Ambassador's words were provoking inside her. From that time, when she had sensed... that smell, in the spaceport, she hadn't allowed herself to go alone through the Humans without the comforting companionship of her Vulcan comrades, and she had been right. She had only made that mistake once before. One evening, ceding to her repressed curiosity and desires, she hadn't been capable of resisting the siren call of the strange music coming from a nightclub. She had entered it, and she had felt... emotions. They hadn't been unpleasant, not at all. But they had been emotions, and it isn't right that a Vulcan savours and tastes emotions, that he doesn't want to restrain them. These Humans are... too tempting; they are as tempters for her. And fortunately that evening no... no smell had been perceived by her similar to the one she had experienced at that time when she had arrived on Earth. But, at least, if that had occurred, she would have been able to withdraw headlong toward the Vulcan Compound. Instead, now, the Ambassador was saying to her that she...

"You have successfully faced spies and traitors and passed fearlessly through many combats, in space and on Earth."

..._that she should remain alone, the only Vulcan, on a starship populated only by irrational, barbaric... _**_tempting_**_... Humans! _

"You were capable of controlling any event."

_Alone! With that odious captain Archer._

The ability you displayed here on Earth in dealing with Humans was excellent. You have dealt with some peculiar circumstances as that one yesterday. Most likely, that's due to your unique experience. Actually, even though people think you have only been on Earth for one year, in reality the lapse of time you lived here is longer and you were capable of making the most of your permanence, as well as from your work with important and thorny missions, far away from Earth and from Vulcan still during your service as a member of my staff. That has increased your expertise, but, at the same time, you acquired a great knowledge of Humans, of their frames of minds and their behaviour patterns. Your scientific approach, the way you are capable of facing any difficult eventuality with a cold and still open mind, are a undoubted guarantee for the mission's accomplishment."

_And... and with that Commander Tucker about whom they vociferated such terrible things._

"You have to add that your loyalty to Vulcan and to High Command is undeniable and - using one of the colourful expressions of that notorious Commander Tucker - bomb-proof."

_That Commander Tucker! That Commander Tucker she hadn't ever known in person and who had became a sort of bogeyman for every Vulcan who had the... the bad luck to meet him, and to face his vitriolic sarcasm, impossible to understand by anyone from her race and against which no Vulcan seemed to have weapons. That skilful and unpredictable man who seemed only Captain Archer was able to control, at least a tiny bit, in the name of their friendship. The man owing to whom, it was rumoured, Enterprise was able to fly. _

"You will be alone, that's a fact..."

_Alone! And... and if she would sense that... that smell? Or some scent which would remind her of that one? What... what could she do? Where could she take shelter? Alone and in charge as a Vulcan observer on a Human starship, where all eyes would be pointed at her?_

"... but, I don't doubt you will be capable of extricating yourself from any difficult situation. And then..."

_What could she do? _

"... that's your duty. Your duty as a Vulcan and as a member of my staff."

The young woman winced inside. Yes, that was her duty and duty is duty, the Vulcan way. She would be capable of facing and of doing it, as every true Vulcan has to do. Her... her father would help her.

The memory came to her mind of that time when she was a child and she was walking with her father, through the garden of their house. _Hand in hand._ She was able to remember perfectly their words.

* * *

"_Father, it is agreeable to hold your hand, but mother says it's not proper deportment for a young Vulcan girl."_

"_Your mother is right, daughter, but I think you are not already a young Vulcan girl."_

"_Do you think I'm yet a child, father?"_

"_You are, daughter."_

"_I don't like to become older, if I won't be able to hold your hand, father."_

"_My hand will hold yours always, daughter. Even when I won't be physically near you. And I hope my hand will be capable of aiding you to bear your tasks and your duties, so that you will be able to achieve them, whatever they will be."_

* * *

(*_Your hand will help me, father._ *)

The Ambassador's voice recalled the woman from her memories, and his words resounded as if he was capable of reading her thoughts.

"T'Pol, you know I was a friend of your father and if a part, even a small part, of his spirit is living in you, of which I'm firmly persuaded, you don't want to disappoint him. He was absolutely sure you are capable of doing whatever you desire. Remember that."

The young Vulcan straightened herself in pride and acceptance, even if her expression wasn't betraying the smallest emotion.

She replied with a steady tone.

"I'll try to remember that."

************

************

**_The day after. In front of Captain Archer's quarters._**

************

"Come in."

She had pushed the button of the _Enterprise_ Captain's quarters.

She had hesitated, for awhile, before pushing the doorbell, but at last she had to do it.

Now the Captain was calling for her to enter his room. And, beyond the threshold, she would meet her coming destiny.

Beyond that threshold there was the Captain, the ordeal she would cohabit with during the next period. And maybe... probably... that Commander Tucker, whose presence seemed to flit everywhere on _Enterprise_.

She straightened her shoulders. Enough now! She was T'Pol. T'Pol of Vulcan. The daughter of her matchless father. She was capable of living for a few days on a Human vessel. Wasn't she a woman who was capable of coping with many dangerous and risky ventures?

She entered the room.

And...

Like a punch! Sudden! Terribly powerful! Stunning! Such that she remained out of breath.

**She sensed it! That smell! That irresistible, unconquerable claim! **

That one she had perceived at that time.

Even the disgusting smell of that animal, that dog the Captain was taking with him in spite of any good reason, faded away like it did not exist.

There was only... HIS PRESENCE!

She made the greatest effort of her whole life, imposing on her face the most deadpan mask she was able to wear. She acted as if she was another person, as if she wasn't herself.

She addressed the Captain. "This confirms that I was formally transferred to your command at eight hundred hours. Reporting for duty."

The dog's stink plagued her, but it was totally powerless to hide THAT smell.

The Captain noticed her hurt expression. "Is there a problem?"

"No, sir."

"Oh, I forgot. Vulcan females have a heightened sense of smell. I hope Porthos isn't too offensive to you."

"I've been trained to tolerate offensive situations."

A voice, behind her. A voice teasing and deep and enthralling. A voice coming out from the source of... that smell. "I took a shower this morning. How about you, Captain?"

The Captain smiled, and then there was no longer any excuse. The Captain was about to introduce to her the man who had speaking. And who was smelling in that way. And she would have to face him.

"I'm sorry. This is Commander Charles Tucker the Third."

She had to turn toward that smell.

The Captain went on with the introductions. "Sub-Commander T'Pol."

She watched the man. He was blond-haired. He was handsome. He was...

"Trip. I'm called Trip."

(*_Father, help me! _*)

Commander Tucker was...Trip! That Trip! The one she had observed at that time. The one she had seen interacting with that shameless Human woman. The man...THE HUMAN MAN... whose scent... whose invincible recall was irresistibly claiming her!

He advanced slowly toward her. He stuck out his hand.

She looked at the outstretched hand. She should shake it. But she wasn't able to do it. She wasn't able.

(*_Father, help me! _*)

She... wasn't able! If she would do it, she would be lost. Forever and without hope.

(*_Father, help me! _*)

And her father answered. Or, rather, that's the way it sounded to her.

She should deal with Humans in the worst way. She should treat them as if they were undeserving people. And, above all, she should treat the Commander as he was a foolish, untrustworthy, childlike man, unworthy of her attention, so that he would avoid her as he would a pest. Only thus could she be capable of resisting his claim. And she would be capable! Yes! She would be!

And this task had to begin as of now.

She turned away hastily with hands intertwined behind her back, displaying the mask she should show to all Human people.

She talked coldly to the Commander, with contempt and haughtiness, without turning toward him.

(*_Father, help me! _*)

"I'll try to remember that."

************

************

**_Time passes. Destiny works._**

************

(*_Father, you didn't help me!_ *)

Little by little she had begun to interact with Humans. That was inevitable, but the fact was that her fears had proved anything but unfounded, because, in fact, her interacting wasn't unpleasant. She had begun... to like Humans.

And, little by little, she had learned to cohabit also with that man and... and with his ravishing smell.

Because its captivation was stronger than her dread of its recall.

Little by little she almost had started to enjoy her daily battle, her struggling within, and the even more intriguing bickering she and the Commander had begun to have, practically every day and on every matter.

It was so... delicious to bask in his smell while they were discussing with concealed pleasure.

And so, little by little, she had fallen into the Human's tempting traps. What she had fear of, it was coming true day after day, for the great as for the small things.

And the maker was HE.

The Vulcan woman thought about the pecan pie she had begun to enjoy because of HIS unconscious invite.

She went with her mind to a phrase her father was in the habit of telling her.

"_You don't have to be worried by tasting the little and great joys of life."_

(*_I'll try to remember that. _*)

************

************

**_Time passes, a little bit yet. And Destiny is still working._**

************

(*_Father, you didn't help me!_ *)

The Vulcan woman had asked the Commander for advice. Yes, just him. And... she had decided. She wouldn't reply to Koss' missive, to the letter coming from the man who should become her husband. She wouldn't honour her betrothal. Because... _because_...

She didn't dare to give free course to her thoughts, but she brought to her mind what her father had said once to her.

"_You, only you, are the owner of your pathway."_

(*_I'll try to remember that. _*)

************

************

**_And Destiny works. Slowly. Secretly... discreetly. But it works._**

************

(*_Father, you didn't help me!_ *)

The Vulcan woman had betrayed the High Command. She would follow the Humans into the Expanse. Because she had learned to understand and to care for them. And because... _because_...

The... the Commander...

**Trip.**

What was that sentence her father had told her?

"_You don't have to be ashamed of your heart's desires."_

(*_I'll try to remember that. _*)

************

************

**_Do you know that Destiny is always at work?_**

************

(*_Father, help me!_ *)

He was dying. Yes! He was dying! And just to have a very little hope that he would be able to live, she had betrayed all ethical principles her father had taught her.

She didn't contrast what she would have had to do if faced with the immoral Phlox's suggestion to create that clone, Sim, and the Captain's bad order to proceed to do it.

Of course, their mission needed the Commander, but deep in her katra, she... she knew... that... without him...

Without his... **_necessary_**... presence...

She closed her eyes, remembering what she had done, at nighttime.

She had gone, alone, to sickbay. She had entered it, careless that Phlox was able to see her.

And she had been standing, in silence, in front of the bed where the Commander was waiting for his fate.

She had watched his deathly pallor, his dewed skin.

She had moved slowly to reach for him.

Her fingers had delicately touched his face, and they had perceived his flesh's coldness.

And... his unique, defiant and enthralling smell was vanishing... overwhelmed by the smell of death.

She had turned hastily, unable to bear that sight, the lack of his scent, and left without the Doctor having noticed anything.

And, at that moment, while she was hurriedly coming from sickbay, she had made her decision. She wouldn't oppose the clone's creation.

And Sim was born. And he was like Trip. And he had his memories and... his feelings. And he...

He had revealed his love for her, the love... the love the **Commander**... was feeling for her.

And now she had become aware, now she knew the Commander... **Trip**... was in love with her.

And... she... had... been... GLAD!... that Sim... would meet death... so as to give life to... to **_her_** Commander!

(*_Oh father! How had I been able to fall so low? _*)

And her father responded to her with one of the wise remarks with which he was capable of smoothing her troubles, and which she remembered perfectly.

"_Surak understood that only in logic was our salvation because our emotions are so strong that they can destroy us. But he also knew the soul is too complex to be regimented into the cold constriction of mere reason. Maybe I sound like a heretic talking in this way, but I am convinced that if, one fine day, we would be able to retrieve his corpus, we would find that all he desired, we were capable of doing, it is that we possess a true katra purity."_

The Vulcan woman saw again the tender look her father had given her, and she heard again his sweet words.

"_I know your katra, daughter. I can perfectly see it. And I can sense its pellucid clarity, its purity. If you will be capable of keeping this purity, the concealed and rude clashing of emotions which is inevitably lying in ambush for each of us, it will not be able to befuddle your soul and your mind." _

(*_Father, I'll try to remember that. _*)

************

************

**_Destiny's job doesn't end. Never. And it knows very well its job. _**

************

(*_Father, you didn't help me!_ *)

The Vulcan woman had fallen at last. Totally. Three times.

She had fallen because of need, of the need to be capable of loving. Yes. Of loving and of loving the human way. After too much time fighting her daily battle, she had to cede and she had thought, almost without revealing it to herself, that Trellium D would be the way. She had permitted herself to become... an addict!

And **HE** had been the unaware cause!

She had fallen because of jealousy. She! A Vulcan woman! Logical and rational. She had become jealous of the attentions HE seemed to pay to another woman. She... she had felt jealous pangs other times, but now it had been different, now that... that there was this new intimacy between her and him, these... these marvellous neuropressure sessions. So she hadn't been capable of counteracting jealousy.

And HE had been the cause!

And finally she had fallen because she had given herself to HIM! For the first time in her life she had given herself to a man, and this man hadn't been a Vulcan, the Vulcan man who would have had the right to have her. This man had been a Human, had been HIM! In the end, she hadn't been able to resist. And she had sought the way to do it.

And **HE** had been the cause!

She had been weak. She had betrayed her Vulcan heritage.

But how splendid it had been to wallow - finally, completely, without any restriction or shame - in HIS intoxicating smell. And not for one only night!

(*_Father, father!_ *)

And, as a light, her father's words came again to her mind.

"_Are you really sure that weaknesses have to be foreign, always, to Vulcans? And that these weaknesses are always wrong? Do you not think they are a part of all of us, of life, and that sometimes it's good to surrender to them? It's irrational and illogical to believe that there can be strength without weakness. I don't think Surak was a blind man. It's impossible that he wasn't aware that 'Strength' arises from 'Weakness.' And remember, daughter, one can even die of too much strength. " _

(*_Oh my Father! I'll try to remember that! _*)

************

************

**_But Destiny is evil. It scoffs at Human... and Vulcan... desires._**

************

(*_Father, you didn't help me!_ *)

Just when she had began to understand, to accept herself for what she was after she had withdrawn from her Commander because of her inability to control her new and disturbing emotions...

Just when she had understood, finally, that she had caused his and her suffering, that old T'Pol was right, that only Trip, the same man who stirred in her these powerful and frightening emotions, was able to be the outlet she needed, and trying to push him away was foolish and useless...

Just at that moment... Vulcan duty had called her.

AGAIN!

She had hoped for too much. There wasn't room for a love between a Vulcan and a Human.

Koss had claimed her. Her mother had needed her sacrifice.

And she would be lost for eternity.

(*_Father, father! What did you tell me once, my father?_ *)

"_Hope is the only way. It never fails. There is no certainty in life, but you have to cling to hope. Always. It will be capable of giving you strength, and you have to believe in it. Logic doesn't shut out hope." _

(*_My father, I'll try to remember that. _*)

************

************

**_Destiny. Destiny is always working. It works and laughs at people's vain efforts. _**

************

(*_Father, help me!_ _Please!_*)

She had regained her liberty; Koss had released her. And... fear had clenched her heart. Everything she had believed in was false. Vulcan had betrayed its sons. She knew her... her Trip was the sole thing which was true, but... she was afraid. She had to learn the real Surak's teachings; they were the first thing. She had to be a true Vulcan, and, to do it, she... she had to sever ties to any diverting thing.

She had to regain the true Vulcan path even at the cost of being unnerving and glacial to **him**.

Glacial... because otherwise she wouldn't be capable of doing what she believed she had to do.

Glacial... even more than she had been in the beginning.

Glacial... like she had been when he wanted to console her for her mother's death.

... Or like that time she hadn't paid the smallest regard to his concern because she wanted to test that telepathic device.

... Or when she had tried to hide from everyone, even from herself, the heartbreaking pain she was feeling inside, watching him dying once more because of that fatal virus. Uncontainable, the words that had left her mouth betrayed the reality of her sorrow, destroying her show of disinterest. - _**"Captain... if Commander Tucker... becomes conscious...**_**". **

**_Words that he wasn't able to hear. _**

Glacial... to such an extent that... _he had gone away_.

He had treated her the way she had deserved.

He had left her.

His smell... she wouldn't experience his smell... nevermore.

And in her mind the bitter words he had told her when she had tried to prevent him from going away resounded like living wounds.

**"**_Are you leaving because of me? _" That had been her weak attempt, and he had replied to her that, even if it could be a shock for her, not everything in his life revolved around her.

And she hadn't been capable of finding the words, of replying to him that it was **her life** which was revolving around him.

Since forever.

That she needed him.

More, infinitely more than any Vulcan path.

But she hadn't been capable of opening herself to him, finally, as he deserved, of revealing to him that their relationship, their... love story had been for her a continuous battle between her need for him and the rigid culture she had grown in. Or that, because of this, it was easier for him to defy his customs and traditions than it was for her.

(*_But, in any case, he has done that, like when he endured the sight of me marrying another man in the name of Vulcan traditions and customs, and...in the name of the needs of the many, like Vulcans... not Humans... say._

_Yes, father. He has done that, he has been capable of soaring over his boundaries, for me. Instead..._*)

... Instead, she hadn't been capable of moving beyond the narrow limits of her culture as he had done not only one time. She hadn't been capable of trusting him as he had trusted her, as he would have wanted her to do.

And... he... had gone.

(*_Oh Father, why are you silent? Why, father? Why?_ _I don't want to... to _**_hear_**_ your silence, I don't want to!_ *)

"_Sometimes silence is the sole thing we can do." _

(*_I don't want to remember that! _*)

************

************

**_Do you know that Destiny isn't always ugly? That sometimes it has pity on us? _**

************

(*_Father, you helped me!_

_He is back! He is again with me!_

_He defied space's void clambering dangerously along that precarious cable to save us._

_Me!_

_And he is back, with me. And he... he is bonded with me!_

_I bore myself the same Vulcan way I always had with him, afraid once again, of what I would do. But this time, at long last and thank Surak, he took the initiative, using his unique and enthralling human mood. His... triptical mood. _

_He... pulled my leg! Yes! Now I can understand his slang, this Human sense of humour. Because I'm bonded with him!_

_I'm... his bond-mate! I'm... his! And he wants me!_

_And he forced me to tell him I wanted him back. And I did. Finally, finally, FINALLY I DID! And I feel... happy that I did it. _

_I kissed him shamelessly. In the corridor. In open air. To show him that... that I was... that I'm... in love with him, clutching the last opportunity he was offering me. And I did, from the depth of my heart without hiding myself, eventually, under the easy scutum of my Vulcan being._

_And... and I don't feel ashamed._

_I feel realized, at last._

_I... feel... HAPPY!_

_I'm Vulcan. Is it fair to feel... happy?_

_Is it fair to wait so eagerly for him to come to my quarters to explain to me what he meant with that, "This thing between us isn't that big of a deal?" And, even more, what he meant with that, "Guess we got a lot of work to do?"_

_Is it fair, this gladness, this reassuring completeness I feel, fully and really, for the first time in my whole life?_

_This... this happiness. Yes._

_Father, have you any response?_

_Father... _*)

Her memory was silent, she didn't find any word her father had told her, capable of giving her some response.

Or maybe...

"_How you are beautiful, daughter. In you, your great-grandmother's beauty is glowing. And her anima, too. I'm proud of that. And she, too, was aware of your similarity to her. She felt you were the person who more than any other would be able to understand her and her aspirations. I'm proud she wanted you to have her inheritance, the things she cared so much about, like that Terran handbag she so greatly held dear."_

That Terran handbag...

Maybe...

She felt the irrational desire to watch that handbag, to touch it. On the other hand, what had there been which could be called _rational_ in her desire to bring it with her on _Enterprise_?

She stood up and reached for the cupboard. She opened it and the handbag appeared.

Carefully, respectfully, she took it. A long time had passed since she had touched it.

She observed it, turning it attentively between her hands.

Slowly, she opened it.

From within an odour bubbled over. A scent of antiques. And it smelled good.

She put her hand inside the old, vintage purse, almost caressing with her fingers its inner walls, and she perceived something that she hadn't noticed before. Perhaps the lining had gotten dry with the passing of time. She didn't know, but the fact was that there was a small laceration in the lining, and through it... a piece of paper was peeping out.

With an infinite attention she took it out from the interstice between the lining and the handbag's external wall, and the crumpled sheet of paper was in her hands.

She unfolded it with endless care, afraid that it may suffer some break from her manipulation.

It was fragrant with a trace of scent, yet perceptible to her sensitive nose. A scent... of ink.

She sat down slowly on the floor, the paper sheet in her hands. Her eyes fixed on it, and on the writing on its surface. Lines, words, noted down by hand, with an elegant and ornate handwriting.

She began to read.

* * *

_My dear great-granddaughter, _

_I don't know why I relented to the irrational impulse to write these lines, let alone why I wanted to hide this paper sheet in this handbag in the illogical hope that one fine day you would be able to find it._

_Probably this paper sheet is fated to go mouldy inside this strange Human artefact, which you won't care about and which you won't understand why your weird great-grandmother wanted you to have. _

_And, most likely, if by chance you find it, you will wonder why I wanted you to read it. You won't understand what I wrote and the reasons why I did it. And you will find its contents illogical and strange. Like me, after all. _

_Actually, how could it be possible for you not to judge such a very old woman, who, wanting to transmit to you a post-mortem message, chose this bizarre and dysfunctional way instead of some modern and secure means?_

_Denying all that would be illogical. But what do you want? You know that my reputation was not exactly good during my life. On the other hand, how could I misjudge our rational, upright, fellow countrymen for their diffidence toward a woman, an independent woman, intolerant of Vulcan society's restrictions in regard to women and in regard to a lot of other rules, who thinks - and proclaims - that the other races can have more than a few things better than those which we have? And those... barbaric Humans, in particular, among whom she had the mischance of being shipwrecked. Just so, those Humans. And who knows what happened really on Earth, what happened to that... Mestral. _

_You know what happened to him. You and your father. And you, like your father, always showed a great respect for me, even in your very young age. You, my great-granddaughter, showed a respect which was going beyond the formal respect that every Vulcan child has to display for every elderly person. You... did say that you would like to be like me._

_And I gained endless contentment and satisfaction from your words and from the features you displayed while growing up, so similar to mine, as was your mind. I don't believe I'm mistaken._

_So, I wanted to let to you these lines, which only you will be able to read, if, as Humans say, Destiny will want it._

_And only Destiny knows if they will be of some help for you, or, even more simply, if you will be in a situation for which my words might aid you. But if by chance it happens that the little story of myself and of Mestral will help you to make a wise and right decision, I will know - if something of me will live yet, as Humans believe... and I... hope that my life hasn't been in vain._

_Many times during my long life the thought of Mestral came to my mind. And many times I asked myself why he wanted to remain on Earth, and why I supported him._

_Of course, it is not a secret that I liked Humans, that I began to understand them and to think, as Mestral, that they deserve something else than our magnanimous and interested tutorship. You know how much I paid because of these ideas, ostracized from the self-righteous, superior (square-toes and holier-than-thou, Humans would say) Vulcan society. I, a humble Vulcan female who dared to express her thoughts, her profane and ridiculous opinions and attitudes, who dared... _

_But I'm digressing. Excuse me, excuse this old weak woman who thought, after she met Humans, that there could be another fate for Vulcan women instead of being property of their families and of their pompous and, most likely, not always appreciative betrotheds. And it's useless to say that men, too, have the same fate because, in the end, it is the women who have to obey, to bow their heads, in this evolved society we have, more evolved, surely, more evolved than Human civilisation._

_And now we are at the point. Why didn't really Mestral want to return to Vulcan? Only because he had found Humans very interesting and he had became fond of human culture?_

_My dear great-granddaughter, the truth is that he became romantically involved with a Human female, or, as Humans would say, he fell in love with her. And for her he gave up his job, his family, his friends and his homeland._

_And when Captain Tellus asked me about him, I became suddenly aware, and I understood him, and I would have wanted to be in his place, because he had found something I hadn't, which would be capable of making more agreeable and less hard the duty and the rigid logic that constitute the essence of Vulcan life, and which, in all likelihood, my betrothed - the betrothed my family had chosen for me - wouldn't be capable of giving me._

_Where is Mestral now? What happened to him? I don't know, but I know that he gave me strength, the strength to invoke the Kal-if-fee. Yes, the rumours are true, my child, even if our respected family prefers not to talk too much of what I did. I, the member of the most orthodox of Vulcan clans. I, the Vulcan woman who dared to think that 'Ashaya' is a word which exists, in our language._

_For it I defied our deep-seated traditions, our customs, our beliefs, resorting to an ancient and barbaric ritual on which, nowadays, Vulcans look with a cloud of suspicion and dispraise. _

_My opinion about it is not different, but it was the only way, and so I resorted to it._

_And my champion, my... loved one... won, and I was his._

_And so, as my descendant, mine and of my chosen one, you are born._

_Surak, my child, gave us logic and stability, but I'm sure he never wanted to constrain us in the narrow boundaries of stagnation. And arranged weddings could make us run this risk. But above all, they make us run the risk of living a dull life, dull and flat, without the smallest hint of joy. Yes, my dear child, I wrote exactly that: joy. There was a time in which Vulcan females recognized who were their men, the men able to give them this joy. The smell was sufficient, the smell of the truth. Why do you think Vulcan women have such a developed olfaction? We are not the only example in nature. Now, all is predetermined in the name of logic and stability, but I don't think this is right._

_I followed the smell of my man, and I lived happily. Happily, yes. And I don't feel ashamed of that._

_That's the reason why I felt it was necessary to write of this to you. I said already that probably you won't understand my words. But..._

_If you are struggling within because you are living my own experiences, and if you need someone who will be able to aid you, remember..._

_You don't have to be shamefaced if you feel. Surak himself knew perfectly that emotions and... 'ashaya'... exist, and that sometimes they cannot... and mustn't... be repressed. It's hard for Vulcans to handle them, and nevertheless, one day, they will claim you. Inevitably._

_'Ashaya' will claim you. Inevitably. And it will be necessary to make a choice. _

_If that happens to you, remember... the man who deserves you is the man who is capable of waiting for and of understanding you. The man who doesn't want to overwhelm you with his own will. But, above all, the man who loves, yes, loves you. And who is capable of conquering your heart._

_And for that, for 'Ashaya', there are no boundaries, no races. Mestral taught this to me._

_Remember, happiness isn't an empty word. And duty is not contrasting delight. Vulcans mustn't forget life's reality, the sweetness and the blissfulness of a true 'Ashaya'. Remember that, my loved child." _

_Peace and long life, my great-granddaughter._

_A life enwrapped with 'Ashaya'._

_T'Mir_

* * *

T'Pol remained motionless for many moments, her hands holding the paper sheet, her eyes wide open and locked with it, her breath light as a feather.

Then she folded the paper sheet attentively, so that it was in its previous state.

She put it back in the handbag and closed it. Then she got up and closed the vintage purse in the cupboard.

She watched it intensely, until a noise shook her.

And a smell.

The doorbell.

His scent.

She shouted. She shouted, yes.

"Come in!"

While the door was opening revealing his figure, she raised a thought.

(*_My great-grandmother, I never will forget. _**_Foreve_**_r I'll remember that!_ *)

************

************

**_End of Part One._**

**_TBC_**

And that damned Shore Leave?

**Bad grin, bad grin, bad grin...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Shore Leave**

******(The Whys and Wherefores)**

**By Asso**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

My friends, do you remember the words I finished Part One with?

_**And that damned Shore Leave?**_

_**Bad grin, bad grin, bad grin...**_

Okay. We are about to catch sight of something of this Shore Leave.

* * *

**Rating:** G (_For now_)

**Genres:** romance again, and - this time - I hope a tiny bit of humour

**Keywords:** Mh, I don't know. Maybe..._feminine soul_?

**And thanks, very much, to **_**Dinah**_**, who so carefully edited this Part Two, as she already did with Part One. **

************

************

_And now we are at present time. We are in 2154. Shortly Samuels will do his important speech and shortly Destiny will show what Terra Primers have in store. But for now, all is quiet and the Enterprise crew can have a brief shore leave. And what the hell do you think a certain Vulcan female - a certain Vulcan female who finally understands that she has to follow her heart - wants to do during shore leave? It's January, and after the climatic changes which occurred during the last two centuries, it is full summertime in Florida. Panama Beach should be very attractive now, especially if you are in "pleasant" company._

************

_**Starfleet Headquarters, just before the exit, in front of the short tree-lined avenue which leads to the shuttle for the airport.**_

* * *

"Bloody hell, I hoped I would never see this atrocious shirt on you again."

"Hey! This is my official vacation outfit, Mal. Maybe it's a bit worn out by now and the colours are slightly washed out, but it is still my preferred shore leave attire." Trip said

"Thank goodness it got a little discoloured. Are you attempting to chase everyone away at the simple sight of your shirt?"

"Ha, ha, ha. Very fun. But I'm not touched, and, in any case, there's someone who will keep company with me... No! What I wanted to say is that there's someone who will keep me company."

"Ah, I see. So, you won't be going to your parents' new house in Mississippi."

"No, I think it's better if I... we don't do that. I want to show my companion the joys and pleasures of Florida."

"Can there really be someone so brave as to show himself together with you while you are wearing that horrible shirt?" Hoshi's voice rose up from behind the two men.

Trip turned around, an annoyed expression on his face. "Ha, ha, ha. Again very funny. But I'm not going to rise to the bait. You two are free to believe or to not believe it, but this someone does exist."

"Impossible." The Captain's voice sprang up, teasing and loud. "I can't believe there's a man or a woman who would dare accompany you as you're dressed with this infamous shirt."

Trip rolled his eyes, trying to keep himself calm. He turned toward the Captain. "Jon..."

"Captain, undeniably that shirt is really... peculiar, as all of you are saying, but in my opinion it fits in perfectly with Commander Tucker's _colourful_ personality." The unmistakable voice of T'Pol, quiet and sure, claimed the attention of the three men and Hoshi.

While turning to the source of that voice, the Captain was once more surprised by the fact that it sounded like his Vulcan First Officer had made a witticism, something that seemed to be happening more and more often lately.

He began. "Well, T'Pol...". Then he stopped abruptly.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Then, while trying to shut his mouth, he turned to look at the faces of Malcolm and Hoshi and saw the same astonished expression he had on his visage.

In the meantime, Trip was displaying a quick sequence of more complex expressions.

Marvel, as first, like the others. And surprise. Right after something... well, maybe it could be called... enjoyment? Pleasure? Astounded happiness? And understanding? And pride? And finally an enormous, almost foolish smile - one which would arouse Phlox's envy.

And if Archer, Malcolm and Hoshi were capable of looking at T'Pol just at that moment, instead of watching each other with dazed faces, they could have seen that the corners of T'Pol's lips were bending up with an unequivocal even if almost imperceptibly tiny smile. Clearly she recognized that Trip had understood and that she had achieved her purpose.

The Captain tried to speak, his eyes wide open and locked with T'Pol's immovable face. "T... T... T'P... T'P..."

The Vulcan woman took off her sunglasses, holding them with her right hand. She blinked in a way which seemed to show some sort of mocking concern. "Captain, is everything all right? You are pale and I have never heard you stammer. Do you need the Doctor, by chance?"

"Yes!... Uh no...! Y...yes... No!"

"Captain?"

"T'Pol..."

"Captain?"

"You are... you are..."

The Captain's look went practically of its own volition to the brightly coloured travel bag T'Pol was holding with her left hand, the exact duplicate of that which was in Trip's right hand.

The Vulcan woman's eyelids blinked again. "Oh, I understand. Yes, Captain. I'm Commander Tucker's companion during his... our shore leave. I thought it would be agreeable to accept his invitation to discover Florida's beauties by means of his direct knowledge of the country."

"R... right. So you... so you... a... are wearing..."

T'Pol lowered her dark eyes to look at the clothes she was wearing. Her expression appeared to be very feminine.

"Well, Captain. I thought it would definitely be appropriate to be dressed in Florida summer fashion, considering the occasion. After all, when Tr... Commander Tucker came to Vulcan, he didn't hesitate to wear Vulcan clothes so as to honour me and my world. I think I should return this honour. Not to mention that it would probably be better if I did not shamelessly show my ancestry while I'm sharing the company of a Human. You know, there are people among your race who don't like Vulcans and maybe my attire could be of some help in order to let me go unnoticed."

"Un... noticed?"

In a daze, the Captain's look went spontaneously to the curvaceous hips and shapely legs that the low-rise, flame-red-coloured shorts T'Pol had put on were showing in all their beauty. He lingered on her bare feet with their... their fire-red, wedge-heeled and ankle-strapped sandals, and finally to her toenails which were... were covered with a ruby-red nail polish. Just so!

A pink elephant! Without doubt! A little too much whiskey, yes! Earlier in the evening, after all of them had taken their assigned accommodations as Starfleet members. Alone, in his room, while relaxing, finally. Savouring a water polo match, with a good bottle of excellent liqueur. Too much, evidently. Yes, too much whiskey and now he was seeing a pink elephant. Sure, no other explanation was able to be found for his... for his vision.

But the expression he recognized on Malcolm and Hoshi's faces, while the blissful and silly smile of Trip was beaming more and more, was a plain demonstration that he wasn't hallucinating, even if logic, as T'Pol would say, was suggesting the exact opposite.

His look, like the look of the others, dwelt on the blue marine coloured and close-fitting tank top the Vulcan was wearing, so short that her belly button was well-exposed above the shorts' waistline and which allowed T'Pol's polished and nude arms to display themselves in all their grace. His eyes loitered on the tank top's deep neckline, under which her very impressive bosom was inflating the light garment, exactly where a yellow coloured word, _**Bellavista**_, was printed, drawing inevitably all the looks.

Then his eyes focused on the cute wide-brimmed hat which she wore on her head. Her dark hair stuck out beneath it, hiding her pointed ears. The brim shaded her lovely visage, giving her a sort of saucy and enthralling appearance.

The Captain finally stared at T'Pol's face, where an uncharacteristic expression was peeping out, a sort of mix between her usual deadpan appearance and what seemed some kind of pert amusement.

"Unnoticed, T'Pol?" the Captain repeated with an uncertain voice.

The Vulcan put the sunglasses on again. "Do you think, Captain, these glasses and this hat will allow me to go unnoticed?"

"Uh... uh... of course, they are useful to veil your Vulcan nature, but about your going... unnoticed..."

"I suppose you want to say that my attire doesn't work. Actually, Captain, I have to admit that probably you are right. In fact, even if I don't understand the precise reason, many people looked at me with evident attention while I was coming here to meet Commander Tucker. I don't know, probably there is something strange or wrong with my attire. Maybe I misinterpreted Ensign Sato's suggestions and the clothes I bought on-line following her teachings are not those which a Human woman would put on, according to the latest Terran fashion for a summer holiday at the sea."

"Ahem..." The Ensign, so brusquely and patently called to the matter, cleared her throat. "Not at all, Commander, not at all. But I didn't imagine what you wanted to do when you asked me for that information. I merely supposed it was some sort of curiosity on your part, considering that you wished to be informed about a lot of other things. In... incidentally, maybe it would have been a good thing if you'd asked me what _**Bellavista**_ means in the Italian language. In any case, believe me, you look absolutely Florida-holiday-girl-like. Only... well! Frankly, it's difficult to think you can go unnoticed, dressed in this way. E... especially for men."

At the precise moment Hoshi was saying these words, a strong noise, followed by the sound of cursing Human voices, attracted the attention of the four Enterprise officers. When they turned their heads toward the noise's source to see what was happening, they were saw two young men, dressed in Starfleet uniforms fall on the ground. After that they unequivocally crashed into each other, and while they were trying to stand up and exchanging many embarrassed excuses, their eyes were still fixed on what most likely had been the cause of their inattention.

_T'Pol._

"I think..." Malcolm began to say, without averting his eyes from the scene.

"... Hoshi..." the Captain went on, his look still fixed on the two young men.

"... is right." Trip concluded, observing the two with a patent expression of amusement on his face and a pleasant feeling of pride inside.

"Why?" The Vulcan's question seemed sincere, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

Malcolm decided the time had come to intervene, and so he did, sternly and precisely, looking purposely at the Vulcan woman. "Your attire is perfect, Commander, but as for you going unnoticed, no doubt that is impossible."

"But why?" T'Pol repeated. The amused teasing in her voice was a little more evident.

Finally, Trip thought it would be better to cut it short. He watched the beautiful and unrecognizable Vulcan woman with a funny and odd look. "I will explain it to you in private, and maybe, still in private..." An impish smirk crossed his face while he was saying that. "... you will want to explain to me why you put on that nail varnish and why you didn't tell Hoshi anything about your intentions. Anyway, don't worry. Unnoticed or not, nobody will suspect your Vulcan nature. So, are you ready, Dar...T'Pol?"

The Vulcan neither replied to Trip's remarks nor insisted on an answer to her question. But something, a hint of a small roguish smile, an air of smugness and complicity did spread across her visage, while she simply limited herself to saying "I am."

"All right. So, we can go." Trip pointed at T'Pol's travel bag. "Give me that."

"Why?"

"Oh damn! Again? Aren't you capable of satisfying any request without bringing up some problems? I only want to carry your travel bag. Southern cavalry, Milady, only that."

"I don't think it's appropriate for _Enterprise's_ First Officer to be waited on by you and your _southern cavalry_, Commander Tucker."

"Hey, Miss Vulcan-I-know-everything, are we on shore leave or we are not? No First Officer and no Chief Engineer at present, okay? No Commander, okay? And, if you want to honour me and my world's customs, as you said, give me that damned travel bag."

Probably no Human and not even one Vulcan would believe that Trip was calling T'Pol with that appellative in public. And less and less that T'Pol wasn't batting an eyelash in hearing Trip's disrespectful expression. But it was just so, as Archer, Reed and Sato could attest.

"Very well, Comm... Tr... But I don't understand why you say you want to relieve me of supporting its weight. Definitely it hasn't been made particularly heavy because of the diving mask, or the flippers, or the diving suit or the swimsuits, or..."

"Diving mask?" Malcolm began, interrupting T'Pol, his eyes suddenly wide open.

"Flippers?" the Captain went on, incredulously.

"Diving suit?" Hoshi added, almost unable to close her mouth.

"Swimsuits?" The three exclaimed in unison, their faces astonished.

With a very blackguardly grin, Trip turned towards Hoshi and the two men and, while holding his own bag on his right shoulder, he took T'Pol's travel bag with his right hand. At the same time, the Vulcan placed herself on his left side.

"Well, comrades, do you think it's possible to show T'Pol Florida's beauties without introducing her to the sweet touch of the Florida's waters?"

"I always believed that ..." a disbelieving Malcolm began.

"...V...V...Vulcans don't..." a babbling Hoshi carried on.

"... appreciate swimming." a befuddled Archer finished.

"That's true, Captain." said the Vulcan with a stern expression. "But I thought it was discourteous for me to accept Commander Tucker's invitation to discover Florida's beauties with him, without allowing him to show me Florida's waters, as he said. And then, I'm persuaded that it's totally illogical for an adult Vulcan woman to be incapable of swimming simply because Vulcans never felt the necessity to learn this type of activity since it is impracticable on my world. But this knowledge would be very useful, during some away missions. This is for me a rare opportunity."

"But T'Pol," the Captain said, almost with unwillingness "ocean waters can be very dangerous and... Well! They can be very scary for anyone who is not used to swimming. And you have never swum."

He was sure that, behind those sunglasses, T'Pol's eyes were flashing with fierce disapproval because of his words. He was telling her that she would feel fear.

And then something unexpected happened, if something else unexpected was able to happen, after all that had already occurred.

The Vulcan spoke with a quiet voice. "Captain, all of you know me well enough by now to know that Vulcans can experience fear... that they cannot always succeed in controlling it. So it is possible... probably inevitable... that I could experience fear when I will dive into the sea, attempting to overcome my ancestral diffidence for open waters. But..."

The Vulcan abruptly stopped speaking, as if searching for the right words.

Finally, she shook her head and said, "Oh well! After all, we are on shore leave!"

And after having exclaimed this sentence, she turned her face toward Trip and finished what she had been about to say. And the captain, like the others, was sure that there was in T'Pol's tone something they never would have thought they would hear in her voice.

Just a little more than a simple hint, but it was perfectly discernible.

Sweetness.

And together with it... yes... together with it... faith.

"I have no doubt that _**Trip**_ will manage to help me enjoy the sea without any fear."

With that she said, and just to demonstrate that wonders never end, she took Trip's left hand with her right and squeezed it. Then, still holding Trip's hand in hers, she turned her tranquil face to the Captain, Hoshi and Malcolm, who were standing speechless, in front of the scene.

There was a long bated moment, until Trip finally cleared his throat and spoke, attempting to break the odd atmosphere with one of his usual wisecracks. "There's nothing better than a relaxing shore leave for taking some kind of agreeable liberties, right?"

T'Pol squeezed his hand again. "Right."

"Oh... oh... ahem... well! It's late. We better go. Greetings, Jon... Hoshi... Malcolm. T'Pol and I will see you on the day of Mister Samuels' speech. Take care and try to have a great time during your shore leave." He smirked. "T'Pol and I surely won't have any problem with that."

If someone believed that Trip's growing smirk was attributable to the quick, sidelong glance T'Pol cast at him because of his words, this someone wouldn't be judged wrong. In fact, that was what the Captain, Hoshi and Malcolm thought in unison, while hearing the last flippant and plainly allusive sentence of Trip. But, in reality, that wasn't the true reason. The fact was that Trip sensed the intensifying of T'Pol's grip on his hand, right after she heard his saucy allusion.

Without acknowledging the minimal sign of what had passed between her and her Bond-Mate, T'Pol followed Trip's example and politely said her good-byes to the three, lowering her head slightly. "Captain, Ensign, Lieutenant, I, too, hope your shore leave will be very pleasant. Please let Doctor Phlox and Mister Mayweather, as well as Engineer Hess, know that Trip and I also wish them a very agreeable shore leave."

**Trip!** Again! Still hand in hand!

Then she turned to him. "Let's go."

Trip smiled at her blissfully. "Let's go," he repeated and turned around slowly and carefully, allowing T'Pol to turn together with him and to remain to his left side without their hands breaking their hold on each other.

The Captain, Hoshi and Malcolm watched in silence as the couple, still holding hands with each other, walked along the tree-lined avenue to the shuttle, which was waiting at the avenue's end for the passengers who had to be transported to the airport.

The three observed from a distance the way Trip helped T'Pol enter the shuttle, making her go first and gently supporting her by her arm, and the way T'Pol leaned trustingly on Trip's hand, allowing him to lead her.

They watched the shuttle go away.

Finally, Malcolm broke off the silence. "I think..." he began.

"... I always..." Hoshi went on.

"... will remember that." the Captain finished. The marvel he was feeling inside was great enough to overcome his jealousy, which he had first experienced when he realized what was between his Vulcan First Officer and his Chief Engineer that time T'Pol had almost gone(1).

"What do you think?" Hoshi asked, without speaking to anyone in particular, almost like she was trying to make things a little more normal. "Will she be cold, dressed in that way? After all, she is Vulcan, and her world is hotter than our. Even if the weather is very warm for the present season and if they are going to reach the sunny beaches of Florida, maybe she will feel slightly uncomfortable."

A pensive Lieutenant Reed replied, almost as if talking to himself. "I don't think so."

And the Captain, looking purposely at his two colleagues, nodded with firm belief. "Neither do I."

He began to unravel the thread of his thoughts.

After that night (1), during which he had become fully aware of the love story between the Vulcan woman and Trip, their relationship had seemed to go wrong. Nothing had happened, nothing had leaked out, and, using hindsight, Trip, the most sociable and gregarious of men, had become more and more reserved and even sulkier. Yes, just so. And T'Pol had again become distant, like she had been in the beginning of her service on _Enterprise_.

_Evidently_, to admit and to accept being in love with a Human man had to be very hard for a Vulcan woman.

But, _evidently_, their love story was still there, even if difficult. Probably - surely - they were struggling with an ocean of misunderstanding and miscommunications. So, at a certain moment, Trip was unable to live with his sorrow and he wanted to leave _Enterprise_. The Captain had wanted to pretend that he did not understand what had pushed Trip to make this choice, but, in the deep of his soul, he, and not only he, knew.

But Trip had come back to save _Enterprise_ and all its crew. Sure, Trip himself had suggested the dangerous way he should follow to reach _Enterprise_ because he was a caring, generous, brave, and bold man. Sure.

And because on _Enterprise_ there was T'Pol...T'Pol and her love for him.

The Captain became more and more pensive, while all the puzzle pieces were gaining their right place, including T'Pol's strange conduct when she had made that wisecrack after she and Trip had defeated the Orion females.

Yeah, _evidently_, something had happened between the two.

The Captain mused again about the true Trip that everyone on _Enterprise_ was able to see again after his return. And... about the changes everyone was able to perceive in T'Pol's behaviour. He hadn't wanted to deepen the whys and wherefores, but T'Pol had begun to display a deportment which could be defined as friendly. Still Vulcan, obviously, but in some way, _human_ and friendly.

She had returned to share the Humans' company, and - yes - she now was fully liking this company. She was taking part in the Human conversations and... and the way she was raising her eyebrow when Trip was joking - Yes! He was joking again! - was different. Nothing could be clearly noticed, and nevertheless... and nevertheless there was something new, an understanding, a... a sort of warm complicity on their faces. Some sort of unexpressed and yet evident and sure gladness and pride, on Trip's face. Some sort of unexpressed and yet manifest and quiet gladness and... sweetness on hers.

And what the hell better reason can exist but love to make a woman so? Vulcan or not?

Now the Captain was capable of understanding. Fully.

_Evidently_, T'Pol had finally accepted her love. The love she and Trip felt for each other

And, _evidently_, now she was relishing this love to such an extent that the two had decided that time had arrived to bring it to light. At last. Taking advantage of the shore leave.

And, _evidently_, T'Pol wanted to make everyone aware - and markedly Trip - that it had reached the point of no return, that she and Trip had to be seen and perceived by those who were their friends as a veritable couple. In love.

For that, she had behaved the way she had. So humanely. So unvulcan-like. For that, she wanted to appear so beautiful and desirable. So _human _and desirable. She had told Trip that she is in love with him and that, for this and for him, she accepted - NO - she **wanted** to be different from the other Vulcans. Still a Vulcan woman, but _**his**_ Vulcan woman.

The Captain knew, as the others of _Enterprise_, that T'Pol was a very _maverick_ Vulcan, open-minded and unconventional, a Vulcan who cared for Humans, who had learned to live among them, who had become an indispensable and trustworthy member of the crew. And he knew that, someway, a lot of human-like sensations and behavioural patterns had penetrated her Vulcan being, because it would have been impossible for her to share the destiny of her comrades, their sufferings, their hopes, without becoming similar to them, at least a tiny bit.

(*_A tiny bit? _*) the Captain thought. (*_All things, except 'a tiny bit!' Today she demonstrated without a doubt that she wants to be Trip's woman, finally and completely, even if she has to cover everything with logic's mantle and even if Trip - if I know my friend - wants her regardless of her Vulcaness or maybe even because of it. She is willing to do all to please him, to be enjoyed by him, for... for surprising him._*)

And now? What the hell should he do? Two of his officers are in love with each other, breaking the rules. Of course, nothing has been told aloud, with unequivocal words, but the facts spoke for themselves. But, honestly... was he really unable to help them? If he didn't act, he would never be capable of looking at himself in the mirror, and the guilt he would feel would be greater, much greater, than the pangs of jealousy he would inevitably sense, seeing them around and in love. The woman he had desired now belongs to Trip.

Perhaps the better road to take would be for him and his comrades to behave as if nothing had happened.

Sure. The eye doesn't see; the heart doesn't hurt. In... in all respects.

And Trip and T'Pol might be together, without clamour.

In fact, only he and Hoshi and Malcolm and most likely Phlox were aware. Maybe Hess, as the Trip's closest co-worker, might suspect something. As for the remaining crew, apart from the fact that they couldn't have a say in the matter, any potential suspicion from them, even real knowledge, would certainly be without consequences because of Trip's popularity and the romanticism of a love born on _Enterprise_ between its Chief Engineer and the - long ago - slightly frightening and cold Vulcan woman, who had become his lover. Their relationship would definitely obtain the tacit and glad consent of everyone. So if anyone who knew for sure would not speak and if Trip and T'Pol would act discreetly...

"Hoshi! Malcolm! Ca... Captain!"

The excited voice of Travis, panting and breathless and dressed in a tracksuit, woke up the Captain from his ruminations and claimed the attention of him and the other two, who were engrossed in their own thoughts.

"Captain! Hoshi! Malcolm! Captain! Cap..."

"Bloody hell, Mister Mayweather! Calm down! You are prattling like a little boy!" said Malcolm.

"Lieutenant Reed is right, Mister Mayweather. Shore leave or no shore leave, you're still an officer in Starfleet. Why the hell are you jabbering like this? Have you seen a ghost, by chance?"

"Excuse me, Captain... a ghost? No... I... excuse me... no, not a ghost! Sorry, Captain. A ghost? Oh, but a ghost would be less stupefying! Excuse me... I..."

"Travis! Enough now! Try to say some intelligible words!"

"Oh yes! Sure! But... I... Excuse me, Captain..."

"TRAVIS!"

The young man took a deep breath then finally found the little bit of calm he needed to let him explain the cause of his excitement.

"Captain, this morning I got up very early because I wanted to take advantage of the shore leave and go jogging in the coolness of the first hours of the day. I was coming back and was resting for some moments in the shade of a tree, where the airport shuttle was waiting for its passengers. When I turned my head, I saw Commander Tucker, dressed in a pair of jeans and with that tremendous shirt he persists in wearing when he goes on liberty. He was reaching the shuttle, holding two travel bags, the one on his right shoulder and the second with his right hand. And he wasn't alone."

"No?" the Captain said.

"No?" Malcolm repeated.

"No? Hoshi added.

"No. He was holding with his left hand the hand of a woman who was walking by his side and who looked... looked... like a pin-up! A cover girl!"

"No!" the Captain exclaimed.

"No!" Malcolm burst out.

"No!" Hoshi amplified.

"Really! And, Captain... Malcolm... Hoshi, you should have seen the pair of legs she was showing under her low rise shorts, the way those legs were made attractively appealing by the wedge-heeled sandals she was wearing, and how her short and light tank top was allowing... Oh! Sorry, sorry, Hoshi! Excuse me!"

"Well, Travis, no need to apologize. Don't you think I'm old enough to know what men think when they are lucky enough to meet a beautiful woman? And sexy, too, if I understood well."

"Sexy? That doesn't begin to describe it!"

"No?" Malcolm said.

"No, Mister Reed. She was... wondrous. Spectacular!"

"Eh..." the Captain sighed. "I always wondered how the hell Trip is capable of attracting so many beautiful women."

"Exactly, Captain, that was my thought when I saw the couple, and..."

"Nevertheless, Travis, just because of this undeniable fact, I don't understand your stupefaction." the Captain interrupted.

"Captain, please, let me finish what I wanted to say."

The Captain, like the others, observed the young man with both worry and amusement. "Ok, Mister Mayweather, excuse me. Please, go on."

"Captain, as I said, I, too, was wondering how the Commander is able to attract so many beautiful women, and I was uncertain if I had to greet him, revealing my presence. Maybe this would have been inopportune. Maybe he didn't want to be seen by someone who - he could have thought - would report that he was in pretty company, especially if the rumours are true about... well!... about a... a story between him and Commander..."

"Ensign!" the Captain exclaimed.

"Mister Mayweather!" Malcolm intensified.

"Travis!" Hoshi added, with a tone of sweet scolding.

"Oh... oh... Sorry! Sorry! I didn't want to appear disrespectful, but, you know the rumours are..."

"In short, Travis, what the hell have you seen? Why are you so astounded?" the Captain asked, with impatience.

"Well, Captain, I was asking myself what I should do, and, in meantime, the Commander and the woman who was with him had reached the shuttle and were boarding it. And while the Commander was kindly helping her to get on the shuttle, I was able to observe her very well, and..."

"And?"

"And?"

"And?"

"Damn! You, all of you, are free to not believe me, but that woman, dressed in that way, that woman, who was enjoying the Commander's help, leaning on his arm, was so sexy and attractive..."

"Yes?"

"Yes?"

"Yes?"

"The wide-brimmed hat - yes, the wide-brimmed and indeed womanly hat! - and the sunglasses - sunglasses, I said! - she was wearing weren't able to hide who she was. She was..."

"She was?"

"She was?"

"She was?"

"Captain, Lieutenant, Ensign... she was..."

"Who?"

"Who?"

"Who?"

"She was Commander T'Pol!"

The words burst out in a single breath from _Enterprise_'s pilot, as if he wanted to get out from under the heaviest of burdens.

There has been a moment of silence. Then...

"What?" the Captain inquired.

"Eh?" Malcolm exclaimed.

"I beg your pardon?" Hoshi sighed.

"I swear! I didn't deceive myself. She was Commander T'Pol!"

"Mister Mayweather..."

"Ensign..."

"Travis..."

"It's so! IT'S SO!"

"Are you really saying..."

"Are you really affirming..."

"Are you really maintaining..."

"SHE W-A-S Commander T'Pol! Right after I got over my amazement and I realized that the shuttle had left with the couple, I began to run toward here, to find someone to whom I would be able to communicate what I had seen, someone with whom I would be able to share it, because things like these can't be kept quiet. And so I met you and...

The Captain interrupted Travis with force, speaking harshly to him, his eyes staring at him and flashing almost dangerously.

"I'm stunned, Mister Mayweather. Yes, I'm stunned!"

"Oh yes, Captain. What else could you be if not stunned at the idea that Commander T'Pol... "

"Mister Mayweather, I'm stunned because you have just said that you, an officer of _Enterprise_, intend to feed that opprobrious Human habit which is called gossip."

"W... what? Captain..."

"But, above all, I'm stunned - abysmally and sadly stunned - that you intend to feed this gossip with a figment of your imagination."

"Ca... captain, I didn't imagine anything, I..."

"So," Malcolm said, having understood the joke the Captain's was playing, "we have to determine if you really saw all that or if you imagined it."

"Exactly, Mister Reed, and.."

"In other words," Malcolm went on "you need the Doctor."

"What? I... I feel perfectly well! I..."

"Really?" the even more malicious Malcolm kept on. "In this case, what you have seen has been nothing but..." The lieutenant looked at the sweaty helmsman intentionally and poignantly. "... a pink elephant!"

An incredulous Travis tried to speak. "A... a pink..."

"A RED Elephant!" The most sweet and most careful, Hoshi intervened. "Since when, Travis? I can't think a strong and self-disciplined man such as you has been able to indulge in this bad vice. Why did you begin to drink? Because of what? What bothers you? Can I, can we help you in some way?"

"Dr... dr... drink? But I..."

"Enough!" The Captain stopped everyone, raising his arms aloft. "I don't want to know anything!"

He looked at the speechless pilot, and continued.

"I, all of us, won't say a single word, Mister Mayweather. Not one. And nobody will know of your bad habit. I hope giving you this chance will enable you to come to your senses, and believe me, considering the responsibility you have, you must take this as a very great demonstration of friendship and faith. "

"But... but... Sir!"

"But if you, Mister Mayweather, dare tell someone about your pink elephant, bringing to light your aberration, I will be forced to take appropriate measures. Try to remember that."

"SIR!"

"TRY TO REMEMBER THAT!"

With that said and before the bewildered young man was able to reply, the Captain pivoted on his heels and headed for the Headquarters. He was immediately followed by Hoshi and Malcolm, who were displaying strange expressions on their faces, expressions which the helmsman perceived as of... amusement!

Just as the Captain was about to enter the mansion office, he stopped and turned around, addressing Travis, while the other two disappeared inside.

He looked at him with something... sneaky... on his visage and spoke one last time. "Try to remember that."

The young man wasn't capable of doing anything else than replying feebly "I... I'll try to remember that."

The Captain nodded, inscrutable and still... almost like teasing. Unequivocally teasing. Then he turned around and went into the building.

Travis remained alone, speechless and motionless. He was unable to think clearly, to understand what had happened.

The absurdity of the Captain's statements, of Malcolm's, even of Hoshi's...

Their stubborn insistence in not wanting to believe him, in not even wanting to consider what he had seen...

And at last those strange expressions on Malcolm and Hoshi's faces, when they had entered the Headquarters. Their hidden smiles. Yes, smiles.

The sneaky appearance of the Captain's visage...

And finally, a light bulb lighted up suddenly in Travis' mind.

But how the hell had he been so idiotic? So blind? He had deserved that his leg had been pulled, but he would be capable of remedying the situation.

Yes. He would.

He smiled gladly and largely and murmured in a low voice, as if talking to himself.

"Okay, Captain. I'll try... I'll remember that."

************

_**Same day, a bit later. Civilian San Francisco Airport.**_

* * *

"Next, please."

The gentle and professional voice of the gracious Human woman behind the ticket-window was calling one after the other the people who were patiently waiting their turn.

Her eyes looked briefly at every person before she lowered them again to the monitor, while quietly inquiring. "May I have some identification, please? Your destination? When? Your reason for travelling? Your baggage? Anything to declare?"

She did the same when a man dressed in a horrible multicoloured shirt reached his turn in front of the ticket-window.

The woman's look darted distractedly to him, who was flaunting on his knavish face a pair of sparkling blue eyes and a very big moustache as blonde as his hair.

And she stopped suddenly.

That face... those eyes... that handsome appearance... that roguish smile, even behind that concealing moustache...

And... that shirt... multicoloured even if a bit faded...

Her eyes widened with pleasure and her lips curved up in a glad smile, then finally she managed to speak. Lowly and uncertainly.

"You are... you are...

The man's expression immediately became alarmed. He looked around on the sly, then returned his eyes to the woman. "Shush! Please! I am incognito. I don't want..."

"You are the man I met long ago..."

"Eh?"

"... and who became one of the saviours of..."

"Please!" The man was urging the woman to be discreet, and in meantime he was attempting to understand what she was saying.

"That moustache is useless, you are..."

"Please!"

The woman's voice got very low. "... Commander Tucker!"

"Oh my!" The man again looked sidelong at the little crowd which now was getting curious, since they were unable to hear the conversation and understand what was happening.

The woman smiled dreamily and cheekily, fluttering intentionally her eyelashes and resting her chin on her hands. "I told you Starfleet had good taste, and you would be a great engineer."

The blue eyes of the man glistened with comprehension. "Oh! You are..."

The smile on the woman's face spread even more. "I am!"

"Oh... oh... well..."

"So..." Barefacedly, shamelessly. "... are you still alone? I know you became a very big name, but maybe you still need... company."

"I... I..."

A cold and stern female voice arose from behind the man's shoulders. "He doesn't need company."

The look of the Human woman went irritatingly to the source of that voice and... it watched the most sexy and attractive of the women move purposely and meaningfully, to the side of the man.

This woman strongly and designedly grasped the man's hand with hers, while he was behaving like he was on tenterhook.

She placed herself steadily on her beautiful legs, which her wedge-heeled sandals made seductively shapely and which were bare and appealing under her shorts, her bosom inflating her close-fitting and short tank top, her free hand placed defiantly on her willowy and nude hip, her eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, her lovely visage gleaming beautifully under the brim of her wide-brimmed hat.

Still displaying that icy tone, she directly addressed the taken aback woman behind the ticket-window. "He already has someone who is keeping him company. _And also keeping company with him._"

While Tucker's eyes were getting larger at the unambiguous words of his beautiful companion, the Human woman, without taking notice of the Commander's surprised expression, got annoyed by the way the other woman had turned against her. After all, she simply hadn't noticed her or the fact that the two were together. She hadn't done anything bad.

So following that weird instinct which not infrequently forces Humans to rail against even the most righteous remarks for the sole purpose of asserting themselves, she tightened her lips and her eyes and, smiling wickedly, snapped the most evil of the looks at the stunning woman who had the luck to be Commander Tucker's girlfriend, most likely. Ehhh... Now was the time to deliver one of those tremendous sentences which only women are capable of voicing when they want to wound another female.

Her words dripped honey. "Oh my dear! Excuse me! I didn't notice you were in the Commander's company. You have to forgive me because... Well! It's difficult to believe that this fine man would be seen in the company of a woman who is so..."

The ticket agent paused some moments, while her eyes looked the other woman up and down, stopping briefly and on purpose on that word, _**BELLAVISTA**_, which was on full view just under the deep neckline of the tank top this woman was wearing. The ticket official finally levelled her stare intentionally at the other woman's visage, while displaying the most sweet of smiles. She spat out her last word.

"... _**garish!**_"

And now Trip felt three things:

**One**. Now he was no longer on tenterhooks. He was on burning coals.

**Two**. A sort of tickling in his mind. Even if he wasn't already able to understand clearly that it was caused by the bond which was tying T'Pol to him, he knew for sure that that minacious tickling was coming from the female who was holding his hand tightly in hers.

**Three**. The intensifying of her grip on his hand, a grip which was getting so tight that he felt pain.

Tremendously ill-at-ease, he turned his eyes alternately from one woman to the other, without knowing what he should do. Then after a few moment his self-controlled - _yes! Luckily SELF-CONTROLLED!_ - companion acted. And talked.

She slowly and deliberately took off the sunglasses, which covered her eyes, and stared at the woman at the ticket-window with a withering look, careless of showing her arched... _Vulcan_... eyebrows.

The woman at the ticket-window was breathless, incapable of doing anything but gazing at those flaming Vulcan eyes, which seemed to want to incinerate her.

The Vulcan woman - _**Commander T'Pol... It was her! - **_spoke with a sharp, glacial voice that nevertheless sounded so sweetly... mellifluous.

"Definitely, there is not the smallest doubt that there are women who can allow themselves to become garish and women who cannot do this. Nobody could assert that you are part of this last group."

**The tone in the Vulcan voice grew more and more venomous.**

"But I have to say that I'm very sorry for you because, evidently, Mother Nature, to follow the Human figure of speech, has been a real _stepmother_ towards you. In fact, judging by what I was able to hear from you, your not exactly... _**garish**_... aspect hasn't been counterbalanced by any other special or useful skill or gift. That is why I don't think it is right that I answer you. You are already so unlucky. It would seem like I was trying to hammer away at you."

Then putting the eyeglasses back on her nose, she added "Nevertheless, in spite of your evident inability to think with any logic, I have to warn you. It's better for you to ponder attentively over what you are about to say, before you give free rein to your illogical thoughts. It could be dangerous to have ideas about a man who belongs to another woman, especially..." Even behind the sunglasses the ominous twinkling in T'Pol's eyes could be seen, and the Vulcan voice assuredly was anything but sweet. "... especially if that man is **MY** man!"

At that moment, Trip could barely believe his ears, hearing T'Pol utter those words, so human, so feminine. But he still knew that there is nothing more universal than the feminine soul. He had known that instinctually, and somehow, that had helped him during his difficult relationship with T'Pol.

Three things, again, occurred to him in rapid succession.

_**First:**_He wondered if he didn't have to be afraid of this Bond. T'Pol had told him that Vulcans tend to be very possessive in regards to their mates, even if she herself didn't know a lot about this matter. But... well!... judging from her reaction towards the Human woman, he probably should act with great, great attention. He would be in big, big trouble if T'Pol suspected, even remotely, that he had some thoughts about another woman.

_**Second:**_He looked at the splendid Vulcan woman who was holding his hand, at her breathtaking aspect. But above all, his thoughts went to the hard road he - and she - had to go through, so to feel finally this grip of her hand on his, to hear these possessive words from her over him, to sense - fantastic, this Bond! - from her this feeling of...of love - yes! Of love! - from her for him... And above all that, he looked into the depths of his heart, and he felt for certain that he would run no risk that T'Pol would hurt him because, quite simply, any ideas of unfaithfulness from him, any thought from him for another woman, would never be possible.

**_Third:_**Inexorably, irrepressibly, at the unmistakable statement from his Bond-Mate that he belonged to her, at the unambiguous assertion from her that he was her man, the most smug of smiles started to beam on his face, without him being able to do anything to avoid it.

While all this was happening to Trip in a flash, the Human woman was staring in disbelief and fear. Just so. She hadn't ever known what it meant to be seized by real fear, but she was sure that that was what she was feeling now. Fear, true fear... in front of that Vulcan woman who was staking her ownership of that Human man in no uncertain terms.

And in the meantime the men and the women standing in the queue behind that man and that woman, who were holding each other hand in hand - the men envying the man and the women envying the woman - were attempting to listen to the words exchanged between the girl who was showing that spectacular body, specially built, and the official at the ticket-window.

Finally the official lowered her eyes and babbled weakly and under her breath, but not so low that her voice wasn't able to be heard by the man and the woman in front of her.

"I... I'll try to remember that."

************

_**End of Part Two.**_

_**Oh well! Here we are at last. This damned Shore Leave seems to begin!**_

(1) I'm alluding to my story "The Force".


	3. Chapter 3

**Shore Leave**

**(The Whys and Wherefores)**

**By Asso**

**Chapter Three (the End of the Story)**

**

* * *

**

Rating:

R

**Genres:** angst, drama, romance

**Keywords:** Bond, Love, Love-Bond, Understanding, Awareness, etc, etc, etc...

* * *

OK. This damned "Shore Leave" seems to want to appear in open air, at last.

Mh... Or maybe... not entirely?

Well. We will see.

Once again I have to thank immensely Dinah. She wanted to edit this chapter like she did with the previous parts, and - as always - she did that at the top.

Thank you Dinah, my friend, and my thanks to everyone who will be so gentle to read the end of my story.

I hope it will be enjoyed.

************

**_Same day. Evening. A nice hotel room somewhere in front of a splendid beach in Florida._**

* * *

"Come here, Hon. Come to see what a splendid sunset."

Trip was at the window and in front of him the sun was slowly going down at the horizon. It was as if the sun was immersing itself in the ocean's placid waters, staining the sky with a myriad of iridescent colours. As Trip watched, the clouds became gradually darker and the shimmering stripe of light grew longer on the sea's quiet surface as though the sun was saying goodbye to the world before ceding its domain to night and the moonlight.

He perceived T'Pol coming close and placing herself at his side. He placed his arm around her shoulders while she leaned against him.

"It's beautiful, isn't it, Darlin'?"

When T'Pol didn't make the smallest reply, Trip turned his face toward her. She was staring motionlessly at nature's spectacle, but the ability that Trip now possessed to read her mood and, who knows, maybe also this strange thing, this Bond, made him aware in some way that T'Pol was concerned.

She seemed pensive. Worried.

Trip looked at her eyes, and they seemed to him to be observing carefully the smooth and dark expanse of the sea.

He sighed lowly and, turning his face toward the window, lightly squeezed T'Pol's shoulder. "It won't be necessary, if you don't want to."

T'Pol looked at him, raising her eyebrow. "What?"

"I mean... I would be very happy to see you swimming between the waves, but... well... there are a mess of things we can do in Florida besides have fun in the sea."

T'Pol detached herself from him and turned around, heading for the room's interior. She stopped near the bed and turned again, looking at him with a strange expression. "Do you think I am worried because tomorrow I will have to face the ocean?"

"Oh... well... "

"I'm sorry if I gave you that impression."

"You are not worried?"

"No."

"Ah."

The self-confidence Trip had gained in reading T'Pol was too sure by now, so he knew she was concerned. But, as always, she wasn't willing to admit it, and, as always, she wasn't offering any opening - not even a small one - to allow him to reach her trouble.

He sighed again. But why the hell did he get enamoured of such a stubborn woman? Vulcan and stubborn, damn it! Then... he observed her enthralling figure, in the incredible attire she had on. Definitely it was worth it!

He took some steps toward her. "Really, Hon, I only desire your company. Stay here with me. No need to plunge into the sea."

T'Pol kept on looking at him, her strange expression getting stronger. "You want my company? Only... **MY** company?"

Trip stared at her without understanding. (*_But what the hell...?_*)

He advanced again a little and spoke once more, trying to break down her shields. Her weird mood was even more nonsensical in light of the delightful afternoon they had spent together. After a delicious lunch, walking hand in hand along the streets of the city, his T'Pol clearly enjoyed their closeness and what they were doing. His heart inflated with pride at the admiring and envious glances the men were casting at her.

"Maybe we could put off our swimming lessons and go shopping. That's an activity that women cherish on Earth. If you want to experience the Florida lifestyle, that would be a very pleasant way to begin."

"Shopping?"

"Yeah. The pleasure of going to shops, above all clothes shops..."

"Where you could purchase some other shirts?"

"Eh?" Trip walked toward T'Pol, until he was exactly in front of her. He didn't understand her last question. He lowered his face to see hers plainly. "I thought you enjoyed my shirt. Well, at least, that you find it fitting for me. You said this."

T'Pol lifted her visage, in turn, and gazed at him intensely. Then, on impulse, she reached into the small pocket of his shirt, her fingers searching for something. Immediately after, she withdrew her hand precipitously, lowering her face almost shamefully.

At that moment Trip knew for sure that something deep and wounding for her was crossing T'Pol's mind.

He placed two fingers under her chin and lifted it sweetly, forcing T'Pol to watch his face, to meet his eyes with hers. "T'Pol," he said in a mild voice, "what the hell is going on?"

Slowly, with effort, staring meaningfully with her dark eyes into his blue eyes, she spoke. "You... didn't call her, did you?"

Trip frowned, in the complete lack of understanding.

Then... a light dawned in his brain.

T'Pol had told him many times that she was always surprised by his ability to link instinctively the most tenuous traces with each other. His mind went to T'Pol's words this morning about his shirt. He analyzed unconsciously what she had just done and her behaviour toward that woman in the airport, the woman he had met that distant day, when he had been about to start his service in Starfleet. He remembered that note, which the woman had given him, and he remembered... that he had absentmindedly put the note in the small pocket of his shirt. The same old and well-worn shirt he was wearing now.

And he remembered the small group of Vulcans who were sitting in their reserved area... that day.

He tightened his eyes, looking poignantly into hers. "You were there. You were among those Vulcans."

T'Pol lowered her eyes again "I was."

"And you listened to all and saw all."

T'Pol sat down slowly on the bed, without turning to look toward him. "I... did."

Trip kneeled little by little in front of T'Pol so that they could be at the same height, then took her face between his hands, sweetly and tenderly, and made her watch his visage directly.

He spoke slowly and carefully. "I don't want to know why you didn't tell me that you were already on Earth at that time, but there's one thing I would like to know. Your hearing is fine and your sight keen, but I don't think you were able to see and to hear all without... predetermination."

T'Pol sighed the way only he was able to hear... the way she was showing him her uneasiness.

Then she placed her hands over his and, with her eyes locked on his, said under her breath "I... I think I have to speak to you."

Trip nodded and stood up, letting go of T'Pol's face, but still looking at her, her eyes following his.

He sat down on the bed at her right side, while she was turning to face him. He took her right hand between his and squeezed it. "I'm... all ears, Hon."

T'Pol closed her eyes and then reopened them. She held Trip's hands tightly and began: "I made you suffer. I did that stupidly and without reason because my battle against my feelings for you was lost from the beginning."

Trip didn't say anything. He knew T'Pol was about to give him some kind of... a revelation. And he knew that T'Pol needed some time.

T'Pol sighed, once again, and went on.

"I don't know if the destiny you Humans seem to believe in really exists, but the day you started your life in Starfleet was the same day I started my life on Earth. I was there in the San Francisco's spaceport when you asked for some information from that... woman."

The upset tone in T'Pol's voice was clearly audible when she uttered '_that woman_.'"

"But I was aware of your presence before you asked for that information because... " The Vulcan turned her face toward Trip's and swallowed hard. "... because your scent had claimed me."

She stared intensely and meaningfully at his face. "YOU... had claimed me!"

She lowered her eyes again. "And I knew I had no chance."

She looked at him again, almost with a pleading expression, and used her free hand to softly caress his cheek. "But I was afraid, T'hai'la. I was incredulous and scared. How was it possible that I, a Vulcan woman, logical and rational, was attracted - so powerfully attracted - to a Human...HUMAN!... man, whom I had not even met? So attracted that I was forced to spy on you and that... that woman, so attracted that I felt something inside which I wasn't capable of recognizing at that time, but I was able to understand much later. Jealousy. Yes. Jealousy."

T'Pol stroked Trip's face almost timorously, attempting to make him really comprehend what she had to go through.

"So, you can understand how I felt when I had to board Enterprise... and I... met you in the Captain's room. You! I would have to live - the only Vulcan - on Enterprise with... with you! You were the man who had unconsciously claimed me as his own with a force I wasn't able to fight against or comprehend. The implications frightened me because I couldn't understand how such a power - a power which was stronger than any boundary - could exist in the Universe."

T'Pol lowered her voice. "A power which logic cannot control."

She disentangled her hand from Trip's and got up slowly.

She turned around, went to window, and stopped in front of it. When she resumed speaking, the silvery light of the moon, now shining full in the middle of the dark sky, illuminated her svelte silhouette.

"I wasn't able to take your hand, I simply wasn't. I knew for sure that if I did that, I would have been lost. And so... " She turned toward him, leaning backward on the windowsill. "... I decided that, if I had to be a Vulcan - the Vulcan you believed I was - I would have to treat you so coldly and distantly. And I... began my daily battle. My personal war."

T'Pol walked slowly toward Trip and halted before him. She looked down at his face, strained by attention, and placed her hands softly on his shoulders. "I won many battles, but thankfully, I lost war."

Trip remained speechless for some moments, then, finally, he found the strength to speak, attempting to break the tense atmosphere. He knew it wasn't a good thing for T'Pol.

"Well! Surely you were capable of doing a very good job. Definitely, judging from your attitude towards me, I never suspected that you were fighting to not fall at my feet."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. Now she understood that he was joking, and she knew how she would get back at him. "You know how Vulcans are capable of being rigorous." Then with a hint of a smile on her lips, she added "And, as you've heard, I've been trained to tolerate offensive situations."

The heart-warming sound of Trip's chuckle gratified her ears. "Right, Hon!" Then he smirked mischievously. "But I didn't know Vulcan training includes the ability to lie."

"Vulcans don't lie." snapped T'Pol, touched on a raw nerve.

"No, Hon?"

"Well. Sometimes. If needed. If lying is useful to control things."

"For example?"

T'Pol leaned down toward Trip's face. "Uneasiness is hard to bear for Vulcans, and privacy is one of our priorities. So we could be lying when... we say we don't feel."

Trip chuckled again, a little bit louder. He grinned even more naughtily and mimicked T'Pol's voice. "I'll try to remember that."

And again T'Pol's eyebrow regained its lifted position.

Then a strange thing happened. Trip smiled tenderly and teasingly, at the same time, and asked "Who or what do I have to thank for allowing my southern charm to be victorious in the end?"

T'Pol looked straight at him. Her T'hai'la had surprised her once more, because once more he had displayed that strange sort of instinct which he always seemed to call on, even unconsciously, when something hidden or not said was roiling deep down.

And she made a decision on her feet. Her Trip deserved to know the whys and wherefores, to know everything. A... almost everything. Her... her addiction, not yet. No. One day, sure, one day she would tell him about that. But not now. Not now, when things were finally going in the right direction, when she had finally found the right road. And... and if he wasn't understanding? Comprehending her? And her need to... to...

No. Not this time, but, as for the rest, he had the right to know.

She straightened up and went swiftly to the console where her well-arranged travel bag was located. Resigned, she looked with disapproval at one of Trip's bags, which was lying underneath the console in a complete jumble. As Trip's eyes followed her with sharp curiosity, she opened her travel bag and began to search for something.

Her voice was low, but perfectly audible in the silence of the night, only interrupted by the surf's rhythmic sound outside the room.

"Your... southern charm was victorious with no need from you to thank anyone or anything. But, even after our first night together and the other intimacy moments which followed, even after I understood that you and I were bonded with each other, my uncertainty and... my fear were still there. My culture is rigid, Ashayam, and I lived it fully and trustingly, at least until the Kir'shara was recovered. Because of that, I timorously withdrew after I seduced you that night. I was incapable of giving myself up to you and to our... to our...." But why wasn't she able to fly free, to utter that word which was her light, by now? "... and I thought I should discourage you by showing you the worst visage I could have displayed."

T'Pol lifted her head and, tilting her face toward her left shoulder, threw a sidelong glance at Trip.

"But I believe that you, now, can recognize that my words were insincere, considering, as you were plainly able to notice, that you were my first. And you know what that means for a Vulcan woman."

Trip knew it was time to intervene because T'Pol was tackling, for the first time, a raw issue, something which they hadn't talked about yet. He was aware that what he was about to say might hurt her, but if, in this first night of shore leave, T'Pol felt the need to reveal herself so openly to him, he thought that he, too, should reveal something of himself to her.

"I know, but I also knew at that time. And I knew that their mates trigger Pon Farr in Vulcan women. Kov told me many things about Vulcan sexual attitudes and practices. But I am not a Vulcan man, so your choice that night had to be very deep and meaningful. Unique. That's why I was proud, expectant the morning after. And..." His voice got heavy "... in the light of all this, I didn't want to think you were sincere when you said what you did in the morning. Simply, after the first moments of incredulity and hurt, I understood you were afraid and so..." Now Trip chortled softly "... I offered you a way-out, suggesting that our neuropressure sessions could go on, and you willingly swallowed the bait."

His tone got heavy once more. "But, Hon... that doesn't mean you didn't hurt me like hell!"

T'Pol stiffened, hearing Trip pronounce these words. She turned around and stared at him with a face Trip was sure could only be defined as... contrite.

There was, in her hands, a small package which Trip watched with tense curiosity.

T'Pol walked towards Trip, holding the package before her, and stopped in front of him. She kneeled, raising her face to look at his. Her voice was as airy as a feather, when she resumed talking. "I know I did hurt you. I did it countless times...."

"Hey, Hon!" Trip attempted to relieve her distress. "I was not exactly a goody-goody in my conduct toward you!"

"... I shared my nights with you and then, at a certain moment, I chased you away because... " NO! She wasn't able to tell him the why! Not yet! "The why isn't important, but I hurt you."

"Those were difficult moments for you, Hon. I think, in conscience, you weren't able to..."

"I hurt you even when... when... you would say... I got back on track. I wanted you to come to my home because... you know the why. And all I was capable of doing was to hurt you. Again. Unintentionally and against my own will. But I didn't care of your feelings."

"But... but, Hon! What else could you have done? And besides, maybe I could have fought a little bit more. Maybe if I..."

"And when you wanted to comfort me on the death of my mother?

"O... oh well! You know. You told me, substantially, that Vulcans don't..."

"And I was lying! Once more! And I hurt you! Once more!"

"Oh... but... Darlin'! Didn't I hurt you when I talked to you so bitterly about Romeo and Juliet?"

"You were only attempting to protect my honour, even against myself. And your bitterness was only a minor thing."

"Oh damn! But maybe..."

"And what did I do when I was, finally, free from my marriage?"

"Eh..."

Looking fixedly at Trip's face, T'Pol recited EXACTLY the conversation they'd had when, at last, things could have worked out between them.

_**Me: **Do you have a moment?_

_**You: **Sure. Something tells me you're not here to talk about movie night**.**_

_**Me: **I'm going through something that's very complicated._

_**You: **I know._

_**Me: **I'm learning, it seems, for the first time what it truly means to be Vulcan._

_**You: **Well, maybe you can fill me in._

_**Me: **Not until I understand it myself. I don't think there'll be time for..._

_**You: **What do you want me to say?_

_**Me: **That you understand._

_**You: **I do. It's not like I didn't know this was coming. At least my warp engines still need me. "_

Trip gazed at T'Pol, mouth agape. He knew Vulcans were capable of controlling their minds and had an exceptional ability to memorize anything. He also knew that T'Pol was incredibly smart. But THIS!!!

"Right, my T'hai'la? I was free and I asked you to let me reflect and ponder and search for my Vulcan heritage, for my right road. When all the time my road was you! And I asked you to understand. Once again. As if you hadn't already been understanding enough! And the concealed yet still evident sadness I sensed in you when you said, _**At least my warp engines still need me! **_That sadness... pains me even now, especially since I thought I wanted to ignore it."

Trip recovered from his amazement. "I... Oh... Maybe... Well! But if I had acted a little less stupidly instead of smiling foolishly... After all, you didn't tell me things were over, you merely told me you needed time. You..."

"Why do you always try to make excuses for me?"

Trip's expression got serious, as it hadn't ever been. "Because I love you."

T'Pol remained speechless for a long moment, then she lowered her eyes. She felt a strange lump in her throat, as if the delight she was feeling inside at the firm statement of her T'hai'la was too much. If she looked at Trip, she didn't know if she would be able to refrain from crying.

And this would have been absolutely unfitting for a Vulcan, even for a Vulcan dressed in shorts, tank top and wedge-heeled sandals.

She began to unwrap the package, while speaking again in a low voice. "I... know that. I knew that, even when you left _Enterprise_ and me, saying that not everything in your life revolved around me."

Trip felt a doleful pang in his heart. "Do you see, Darlin'? You are not the only one who is capable of lying. And of hurting."

T'Pol looked at him keenly, while something appeared in her hands. A handbag, Human, old.

"But you returned to _Enterprise_ and to me. You risked your life, the way you yourself suggested, while I tied you to me with a Bond which was foreign to you. You returned, for your... " T'Pol sighed deeply. "... for your love, and... to teach me to... love you."

Trip gasped. T'Pol had never pronounced that word. _Love_. True, she hadn't told him, '_I love you,' _but she had uttered the word, '_Love._' Indirectly, she had also told him '_I love you.'_

Trip didn't want to verbally underline this sort of miracle. He knew what it meant for T'Pol. It would have been very stupid to run the risk of spoiling such a wonderful moment. Whatever speech he might have been able to render about what he was feeling would only have embarrassed T'Pol, and perhaps prevented her from telling him, one fine day, clearly, not obliquely, _I love you, Trip._

He decided to limit himself to poignantly watching T'Pol, while T'Pol returned his look.

Then he lowered his eyes and stared at that ancient handbag. He thought he was beginning to understand what it was.

T'Pol broke the silence. "You said just now that you perceived my fear that morning when I attempted to deny what I had done. And I have just revealed to you that fear has been my constant companion in our relationship, preventing me from giving free course to my feelings for you. Fear, again, almost blocked me when you wanted me to tell you, without deceitfulness, that I wanted you back."

"Eh, my torturing delight, but you gave me on that occasion the greatest satisfaction of my life!"

T'Pol felt a great warmth inside. Never would her T'hai'la disappoint her. His marvellous, teasing Human mood, so his own, would always be capable of conquering her. "Your... _torturing delight_... finally managed to act a little wisely by telling you the truth and kissing you impulsively and freely..." T'Pol spelt attentively her following words. "... from the depths of my soul."

"Oh... ahem... 'cough'... What do you want? Evidently my southern charm..."

"... was victorious, yes. And I felt... happy, Ashayam. I was happy and filled with trepidation while I was waited for you to explain to me what you meant by that comment, _Guess we got a lot of work to do.'_"

"Oh... Oh...well..."

"But my uncertainty and my fear didn't leave me yet, even in the completeness I was feeling. Really, my T'hai'la, really this was my... my destiny? You? Really..." There was a bit of hidden sadness, of disquiet in T'Pol's voice while she uttered her next question. "...did I have to be so different from the other Vulcans? From... my... race?"

Trip, for the first time in his life, was at a loss for words, unable to find some response for T'Pol's heartfelt question.

For the very first time since their relationship had turned around, he truly understood the heartbreaking conflict she'd had to live with. Heartbreaking, yes; this was the correct term. It was easy for him, damned easy, to break the rules. For this male, a male so damned pleased to play the riotous wayward, belonged to a race that enjoyed being individualists, intolerant of any restriction. A race whose essence was... to feel and to show its feelings.

But for her...

Stubbornly, pig-headedly, obdurately, mulishly, cussedly, bluntly, obtusely, oblivious to her unspoken requests for help, he had pursued her, careless of what he was asking... _demanding_... of her.

She was a woman who belonged to a race which was the exact opposite of his: calm, reflective, undeviating, sober, logical. Her race had made control a way of life. They weren't able to display their feelings or to live them openly, on pain of death. On disruption.

And he had demanded from her to be Vulcan, because he loved her Vulcaness, and to be Human at the same time. To love him regardless of the culture she was imbued with. Her own culture. To be... a stranger to her race.

He had made her life... a hell!

And, therewithal, because of some sort of Vulcan alchemy, Destiny had played a very bad trick on her, allowing her to be claimed by a man not from her race. And this man was him! And he was proud and happy for that, but it meant that, even unwittingly...

_**He had made her life a hell!**_

Trip grabbed T'Pol's face between his hands. He whispered with a broken voice, "Forgive me, my love!"

T'Pol opened her eyes wide. "Forgive you? But what are you saying?"

Trip, still holding her face between his hands, began unconsciously to softly caress her earlobes with his thumbs, so that T'Pol had to shiver with inevitable pleasure, and, closing her eyes, she found difficult to focus on his response.

"I may never understand - fully, really - what I demanded from you, the troubles I gave you, the immense effort I asked of you only for my personal pride, for a love which was foreign to you. I made your life a hell!"

T'Pol shook her head to try to comprehend what her Trip was saying... and to free her face from his hands and her earlobes from the caresses he was giving them, which were making her feel dizzy and unable to pay attention to his words.

She reopened her eyes. "My life... a hell? Because of you? You gave me life, Ashayam! You..."

"Because of me you lost your tranquillity, your serenity, your..."

"_**You**_ are my serenity, T'hai'la, my harbour. And, before I ceased to deny this simple truth, I made your life a chaos, not you mine."

"I persecuted you with my stupid stubbornness..."

"I made you suffer without reason..."

"I harassed you with my illogical Human mood..."

"I hurt you in all possible manners..."

"I..."

"I..."

Trip smiled suddenly. "Well, Hon. Let's just say that we made sure not to miss anything."

T'Pol lifted her eyebrow. "Agreed."

Once again her T'hai'la had found the right road. A few words and all their childlike and useless raking over their past reciprocal mistakes had magically faded away.

But T'Pol had to finish what she had started.

"You asked who or what you have to thank for having allowed your southern charm to win me, and I have told you that you have to thank only yourself. But I also said that, even in my happiness for having finally surrendered to you and to my desires, I still felt uneasy because I was different from the others of my race. Be sure, my Ashayam, this didn't mean that I was having an afterthought. Simply I needed some assurance, and this couldn't come from you. I needed the words of someone who was of my race, who was capable of understanding me for what I am, who cared for me to such an extent that he would want only my real, true happiness, regardless of who..." And T'Pol stared on purpose at Trip. "...was able to give me this happiness."

Trip was unable to not speak. "T'Pol...who could you have found on Enterprise? No one on board could be the one you described."

"My father, Trip."

"Your... father!"

"The memory of him, of his words, of the endearment he gave me, is always living and vivid in my mind and in my katra. And every time I needed him, he answered me. Even with his silence. He always helped me, even... when I had to board Enterprise and to face your... earthshaking presence."

Trip almost didn't dare to breathe.

"And this also happened this time, Trip. My father was silent about my question, but something he had told me once led me to the person who was able to give me the response."

T'Pol gave a nod to the handbag. "I think you recognize what this is."

"It... it wasn't a story, after all."

"No, Trip. T'Mir existed, like Mestral. She was my great-grandmother. And I met her and got acquainted with her for only a short time because she was very, very old. But even though I was a very, very young child, I remember her well. And I loved her as she loved me. She said I was like her in body and mind. "

"Then she had to be a very beautiful and smart woman."

T'Pol tried not to smile with contentment and pride at the outspoken compliment of her T'hai'la and hardly managed to suppress it. How things change! Formerly she would have been incapable of understanding such things and much less relishing them, and now...

But _**her T'hai'la**_ was the one who was giving her this compliment.

"She was, T'hai'la, but above all, she was a woman who was independent and free. She waged many public battles to improve the condition of women on my world and... one personal battle to be free to have her chosen one."

Trip squinted. "To have her chosen one?"

"She was a legend on my world, even if I have to admit that many of my Clan weren't too pleased to be her blood relatives. But this is irrelevant, now. I will recount that another time. At this moment, suffice to say that she felt me so kindred to her that she wanted me to have something she had held dear."

"This... handbag?"

"Among other things. But this is the one I relish exceedingly."

"You don't believe in premonitions or in fate, do you, Hon?"

"Vulcans don't..."

"I see. And it is well-known that Vulcans don't lie." Trip winked. "Especially if that isn't needed or useful to control things."

T'Pol raised an irritated eyebrow at Trip and resumed her talk as if he had not even spoken.

"I relish it to such an extent that I wanted to take it with me on _Enterprise_." She opened the handbag, put her hand inside and carefully took out a sheet of paper. "And after I found this in the handbag, I decided it would be with me wherever I go."

She unfolded the sheet of paper even more carefully than the way she had extracted it from the handbag, and handed it to Trip, looking at his eyes meaningfully. "You asked if I believe in omens or in Destiny. I don't know. I'm Vulcan; logic guides my road. But this one," she said and nodded at the sheet "is something about which I don't want to pronounce myself."

T'Pol got up, took several steps backward, and then halted. She placed her hands behind her back and clasped them together, with the handbag hanging from her fingers.

She gazed at Trip, whose eyes were examining the sheet. "It's a message, my T'hai'la, a message from the past which reveals my future."

Trip shot a questioning look at T'Pol.

"OUR future, my Ashayam."

Trip returned his eyes to the sheet. "It's written in Vulcan."

T'Pol lifted her eyebrow once more. "I think you're able to read it. I called you Ashayam and you didn't bat an eyelash. When I called you _T'hai'la_, you asked me its meaning." T'Pol underlined her words. "I hope the meaning of _Ashayam_ pleases you."

Trip blushed evidently. "Oh... oh... sure! Considering that it means... Hey! How can you..."

"I know you are studying the Kir'shara, attempting to learn the Vulcan language by yourself. It's a great honour for me, but you could have asked me to teach it to you."

"Well, T'Pol. I would have liked to give you a surprise, and then it would have been pleasant to give you some...." Trip smiled openly "... love messages in your own language, without you being aware of my knowledge of it."

T'Pol attempted once again to hide her delight. Without much success, to tell the truth, judging by the resonant, hearty laugh Trip burst out with at her expression.

T'Pol tried to regain her composure. "I'm very pleased, Ashayam. I appreciate that."

"Glad, Hon. But how the hell did you know I was studying...." Trip suddenly understood and fixed T'Pol with a reproachful look. "You spied on me!"

T'Pol didn't seem to particularly lose her cool. "I don't think this a novelty, is it? But then, I would not like to completely lose my expertise."

Trip looked at her, mouth agape. "O... Ooookay, Hon! I must say that my life with you won't be tedious. Surely not."

T'Pol was silent for a brief moment, then she spoke in a low, low, low voice.

"If you want to know what your life will be like with me, please read that message," she said in a sweet whisper "my Ashayam."

Trip nodded and started to read.

He read attentively, more and more attentively as he was proceeding into the reading.

He finished and levelled a dazed look at T'Pol.

When he got up and walked toward her, her eyes closely followed him.

He halted in front of T'Pol, still looking at her, and gave her the sheet. Then he turned and went to the window, and leaned on the windowsill. His eyes pointed to the sky, where now that the heat of the day had faded away, all the clouds had disappeared. The stars - gleaming, glinting, uncountable - kept the moon company, but were too timid to show themselves near her, where her argentine light was too brilliant.

T'Pol put the sheet back in the handbag then placed the handbag near her travel bag. She waited for Trip's reaction, but time passed and Trip didn't do or say anything.

T'Pol was extremely patient, but now she was beginning to get worried. She knew that, in spite of the explosive character her T'hai'la was used to showing, he was introverted, somehow. His habit was to keep inside more than he was displaying on the outside. In that he was very similar to her. People didn't know how many things they really had in common. Only she knew this, and she relished that as a hidden and precious treasure.

But - one of his pervasive colloquialisms twirled in her mind - _too much breaks the bag_.

She was able to feel his thoughts, surging and rumbling as the waves of the ocean.

And her disquiet became greater and greater.

What if she had made a mistake? What if she had deceived herself? She had shown Trip her great-grandmother's message with the unconcealed intention of making him aware that she had put any uncertainty behind her. The only thing she wanted was to share her life with him, but...

The distress she had started to feel inside... was growing more and more.

... but... what if he felt it was a restriction?

Vulcans mate for life, but Humans... not always.

The unwelcome and hurtful thought of her T'hai'la joining with other females painfully struck her Katra.

Human males, from what she had been able to understand, are... _She felt a keen pain inside._ ... are often fickle and inconstant. Mercurial. They don't tolerate... Maybe her... her Ashayam... didn't want a liaison for life. He... he had already had other women... _The pain she was feeling flashed suddenly, becoming a sharp pang. Wounding._ ... and... and even if he did love her, he... he wouldn't tolerate being constrained by the unbreakable ramparts of her... of her Vulcan love. Of her... ASHAYA!

The waiting became too excruciating. T'Pol was aware that only a few moments had passed, but she had to know.

She took some steps toward Trip and gently placed her hand on his shoulder from behind.

She called him, lowly, almost weakly. Afraid. "Trip?"

He turned around slowly at her touch and she saw... that his eyes were moist.

"Trip, Ashayam..." _What was wrong? What had she done?_ "Why are you crying? Is it... something I did to you? Did I give you..."

"Happiness, Hon! Pure, overwhelming, cloudless, _illogical_ happiness!"

"But you are crying. Why? if you feel..."

The most disarming of smiles spread across Trip's face. "Don't you know how irrational Humans are? They cry for sadness, but also for joy. That's possible, my love."

Oh yes. She knew that. She knew it was very possible, because just few moments ago she had felt the same need. But, if her Ashayam was crying for happiness, this meant that...

She placed her right hand on his left temple and, while her fingertips were lightly playing on his skin, she delicately caressed his left eyelid with her thumb, as if, with her gesture, she wanted to make sure of what she was seeing and, contemporaneously, to alleviate the overpowering feelings of her Mate. "Did I make you happy, Ashayam?"

Then, with an expression in her eyes never seen before by Trip, an expression which seemed formed by some kind of relief and delight and apprehension at the same time, she whispered so low, that her voice was almost inaudible. "Do you think I will be able to make you happy, Ashayam? I'm a Vulcan woman, so much different from those of your species. Or from those women..." Her eyelashes fluttered, rapidly, almost unnoticeable. ... you had. Are you..." Another flutter. "... are you aware that Vulcan mates tend to be tied to each other... for life?"

Trip's eyes locked on her face. He seized her wrist and clenched it with force. He tightened his mouth and eyes, while T'Pol was looking at him, questioning wordlessly, unable to understand what was happening to him.

"Have you fear, Hon? Again?"

T'Pol quivered slightly at the harsh tone of Trip's voice.

Fear? Again? Yes, she had fear. It had been her road for so long. And now, what would she do if Trip...

He let go of her wrist, and she took some steps backward, still staring at him. "Trip..."

He took a deep breath, then said, "I think I, too, have to speak to you."

Trip turned again and, while his eyes stared out at the sea, his voice rose. "You told me you felt my claim even before we met. I mean, before we really met. You knew, you said, that I was your man, even if you didn't want to admit it and to face the reality. I'm not Vulcan; I don't have this sort of dowers."

Trip turned his back to the window and, crossing his arms over his chest, leaned back against the window ledge. He stared poignantly at T'Pol, who was waiting silently for him to continue.

"But when you entered the Captain's room... something... I wasn't capable of recognizing... happened."

Trip paused.

"You were a Vulcan. A VULCAN! A member of the race that was keeping us Humans under the heel of its hateful, captious, devious control. You were... **the most beautiful Vulcan I had ever seen!**"

T'Pol felt her heart jumping.

"Your presence filled the room. Captain, dog, furniture... nothing existed but you."

T'Pol held her breath.

"Then I roused myself. What the hell was happening to me? I heard the Captain make his teasing remark about the Vulcan women's sense of smell, and I seized the opportunity. I reacted the way I usually do when I don't know what I have to do." Trip chuckled softly. "You know, as you do when you raise your eyebrow."

But this time, T'Pol didn't raise her eyebrow. She was staring at Trip as if her life hinged on his words.

Trip sighed again. "I made that stupid gibe when I introduced myself. Then... the Captain did the introductions. You turned toward me. I was able to see you in full view. The most marvellous view my eyes had ever the luck to see."

Trip paused for an instant. T'Pol was feeling her heart jump without pause.

"I perceived your scent. A tenuous trace of a smell. Strange. Alien. Bewitching."

T'Pol was breathing pure light. Was there a way to keep her heart from jumping?

"I introduced myself to you. '_Trip, I'm called Trip,_' I said to you. And I was wondering how marvellously my nickname would sound if it came from your mouth."

How was she going to stop her heart's rapid gallop?

"I offered my hand to you." Trip's voice became somber. "You refused it. You turned around and ignored me."

The crazy racing of T'Pol's heart stopped abruptly. A shivery pain sank its teeth into it.

Trip stared intensely at her. It seemed to her that the sadness he was feeling, when he remembered his sensations of that time, was clearly visible in his eyes.

"And I felt furious, the most furious of the men who had impressed their foot-marks on the powdery paths of Earth."

T'Pol wasn't surprised by the image Trip had drawn with his words. She had become aware of his veiled ability to speak, of the hidden vein of eloquence he was capable of displaying in his speeches.

Rather, she was struck by the vehemence of his phrase.

"And do you want to know why I was furious? Because you treated me badly? Because a Vulcan, no matter how beautiful, mistreated me? No, T'Pol. Not at all. I wasn't capable, at that time, of understanding the why, or maybe I didn't want to, but the true, real, unique reason was that the person who was doing this to me... that person... was you!"

T'Pol tried to speak, to interrupt that painful flowing of memories. "Ashayam..."

But Trip raised his hand, stopping her.

"No, Hon." His voice was mild, caring. "Let me finish. I..." He watched T'Pol strangely and keenly. "... I have to make ... some confessions."

He crossed his arms over his chest again and took a deep breath. His eyes dropped to his feet then returned to her face. "Therefore... I swore I would get back at you!"

T'Pol was motionless. Like a statue.

"So I began to plague you, to provoke you, always looking for some weaknesses from you, always searching for a chink in your armour. And so... arguing with you, trying to make you angry, to make you lose your damned control... I became entangled in my own cobweb."

Trip chortled quietly, almost to himself. "Every time I managed to make you... un-Vulcan, I felt glad and uncomfortable at the same time. And at fault. I promised myself I would stop, but when I saw you again, I wasn't able to resist going on with the same play. Why? Because... no woman was ever as beautiful as you were when I succeeded in making the tips of your ears red." Trip chuckled again. "Well, I mean that sort of green-like colour you get when you..." - Another chuckle - "... when you blush. That colour so damnedly enthralling."

T'Pol wondered how it was possible that she was able to feel so angry and so delighted at the same time, while her T'hai'la was revealing all that to her. Unquestionably, Humans... Trip... HER TRIP... had marked her indelibly. Much more than the Trellium. Much more. And happily.

"And so little by little, my Darlin', you became part of my world, an indispensable part. Of my world and of me. An actual member of the crew. But, above all, the person I was able to ask for a response, and with whom I wanted to share my thoughts and... and my feelings, too."

Trip began to speak with an altered voice and T'Pol understood he was giving substance to his own thoughts, to the thoughts which had revolved in his brain, during the time he was referring to.

_"And that...? How could I do? Maybe T'Pol... Oh damn, I really don't know what the hell I can do! Perhaps T'Pol will be able to help me to find the solution... Ah this? Splendid! I want T'Pol to see this! I will show it to her this evening. At the movie night."_

Trip smiled at T'Pol with a light of enjoyment in his eyes. "Yeah, movie night. Do you remember, my Hon? In the dark? While nobody was able to see? Do you remember my look which was searching for yours? And my hands, which, slowly... one could say inadvertently... touched your hands? And you... you weren't withdrawn. And, maybe foolishly, when I was late, I got the impression that your eyes were searching for me. And then you touched my hands without waiting for me to take the initiative, making your gesture as unintentional. But you did or, perhaps, it was only the unexpressed desire of my heart."

T'Pol felt her own heart becoming enfolded in a warmth she knew no word could express. Yes, she remembered movie night. She remembered those sensations perfectly, those forbidden, small touches that she permitted Trip to give her. And she remembered most acutely, reciprocating his gestures as well as his glances. The strange atmosphere of connivance that the movie night was capable of creating allowed her to indulge in the repressed, but still existing, yearning of her soul.

And she felt the need to make her T'hai'la aware that he hadn't deceived himself. "You weren't wrong, Ashayam."

Trip smiled again softly. "I know this now, but I didn't at that time. And, as any stupid and arrogant man, I simply believed that maybe, if I wasn't mistaken, I was capable of playing the role of the male even with you. Yes, maybe I had managed to take this incredible revenge on you. But I was mistaken and, little by little, imperceptibly, I began to recognize the truth. I was mistaken twice, my Treasure, because I was probably magnifying something which didn't exist, or so I thought, but, above all I was mistaken because I wasn't the one who was playing you."

Trip's look became deep, almost hard. "The one who was being 'played' was me."

It was as if a flow of love - T'Pol was able to feel if, abundantly clear, in the Bond - was running from her T'hai'la to her. "Just so, my Love. You have gotten under my skin and into my veins."

Trip chuckled once more, a strange smile on his lips, almost like if he was teasing himself. Pitying himself.

"Oh sure! Obviously I wasn't able to... didn't want to acknowledge such an undreamed of, incredible event at first. After all I was the one who had suspected you were a spy! But, see how things can change, my Hon..." Trip looked intensely at T'Pol. "Thinking about it in hindsight, how else can you explain the fact that your visage was the last thing I saw before I fell asleep and the first think I saw in the morning when I woke up? And that it even filled my dreams?"

T'Pol was hanging on Trip's every word.

The same smile, now faintly self-mocking, lit up Trip's face. "Of course, certainly, evidently! The reason was obvious. You were the ceaseless thorn in my side! I kept repeating that to myself."

The Trip's warm laugh filled T'Pol's ears. "See, my spiky, bread-and-butter thorn? What a kind of a crackerjack I am capable of being! Sure, really smart in deceiving myself!"

He became serious and looked meaningfully at T'Pol. "Just so, my Darlin', just so. I'm not lying to you. It hadn't been a long time since you and I'd met; nonetheless, you had become the around-the-clock companion of my thoughts."

Trip winked, smiling almost miserably. "And the person I was afraid of dealing with when I had something that I was ashamed of."

Trip's smile grew. "How else can I explain the unwelcome and strange thoughts I had, coming back from Risa? You're the only one who knows what happened to me and to Malcolm. I confessed it to you in one of our chats during our neuropressure sessions. But, until now, I didn't reveal to you that the shame I felt wasn't merely due to the situation I'd landed in."

Trip paused, looking at T'Pol with a shadow of pain in his eyes. "Strange, isn't it, Hon? You were the person who practically suggested to us - to me - that we search on Risa for a... good time. I didn't even have the shadow of an... _affair_... with you; nevertheless, I tried to hide what had happened to me because I was ashamed. I was afraid that maybe you had become aware of my mishap, and, even more, because I had searched, by design, for some adventures after we - **you and I** - had met."

Another pause, then... "But at that time, I wasn't capable of recognizing the reason, recognizing that my feelings were a consequence of the fact that I had met my destiny. YOU."

T'Pol was avidly drinking in Trip's every word, and his last revelations stirred a mess of sensations, of... emotions... inside her.

She remembered perfectly when she had suggested the shore leave on Risa for the Captain, Hoshi, Malcolm, Travis, and... Trip.

She almost bit her lip.

Okay! She could let pass the fact that she had believed that she had to fight against her attraction to Trip. But... to suggest to him that he would have had to do...

She... she had been a... a masochist! Was there, by chance, any genetic self-destructive mutation in her DNA? But how... HOW THE HELL!.. had she been able to make such a moronic piece of nonsense?

T'Pol became angry with herself because the thought struck her that, if she had been a little more intelligent instead of uselessly opposing her needs and her desires, the one who could have... relieved her T'hai'la's needs could have been **her**! **Instead of wasting so much time! **

And, at the same time that these unpleasant thoughts were whirling in her mind, the _very pleasant_ sensations of the neuropressure sessions between her and her T'hai'la were caressing her heart. Yes, because these sensations weren't simply made by physical intimacy, even if that counted immensely. There was also a different intimacy, a pleasure, a delight of sharing their souls. They had chatted and she had told Trip things, events, thoughts, aspirations about herself, her life, even about her childhood and her adolescence that she never thought she would say to anyone.

And her T'hai'la had done the same about himself.

And so, he had told her also about his mishaps on Risa and... about Liana. _**And Kaitaama**_.

T'Pol wondered how Humans could deal - constantly, ineluctably - with their contrasting emotions. She eagerly hoped that her old self indeed wasn't mistaken when she had told her that she would find in Trip the rescuing outlet she needed to handle her own emotions.

Because, otherwise, she really would be lost.

Like now.

It was marvellous to become aware of her T'hai'la's feelings for her since the beginning of their acquaintance, but she now regretted that she had permitted things to go the way they had.

The sweet memories of their neuropressure sessions... and the afflicting thoughts of her T'hai'la's... sexual encounters. In which... she hadn't been his... partner.

The consciousness that nothing could change in their relationship because of her T'hai'la's elapsed love affairs... and the pain that she hadn't been smart enough to prevent him from having... these affairs.

And the awareness that it was totally useless... stupid... moronic... to ask what she was going to ask... and nevertheless... to feel the necessity... the need... to ask.

She stared at Trip, ashamedly and thoughtfully. She sighed so lowly that her words were almost inaudible. "But you had other women, even after we met."

Trip unfolded his arms and brushed his hands against his jeans. He spoke harshly. "Ah'len?"

"Y... yes. And..."

"I told you and the others that I didn't do anything with her. I was curious about her people. Nothing else. I don't deny that I feel attracted to pretty females, but this doesn't mean I have... to mate with every lovely woman I meet. She didn't tell me what she was doing."

"I... I know, but..."

Looking annoyed at her, Trip lifted his hand sharply and stopped her. "And you teased me. I didn't like that."

T'Pol was caught off guard. "I... I think it was an... irrational reaction, masked... masked with a platitudinous dissemblance. I was... I was... "

"Jealous?"

T'Pol spoke under her breath. "I... was."

Trip laughed. Openly. "I think I am conscious of this proneness from you."

T'Pol scowled. "Are you?"

Trip winced. "Oh... oh... I mean..."

"Don't you think I have a lot of good reasons to be... jealous?"

And, with that, Trip looked fixedly and pensively at his love. He spoke quietly. And lowly. And deeply.

"T'Pol, MY LOVE, I'm immensely happy that I'm your first man, and I hope, eagerly, your only man. But do you think I would love you less if I were the second? Or the third? Or the fourth? Or the umpteenth?"

T'Pol stared at her Mate with a look which conveyed all her joy and all her love for this man, who was capable of giving her all the warmth, all the assurance she needed.

"And T'Pol, MY LOVE, do I have to think you would love me less because I made so many... so many... errors... before I understood you are my destiny?"

T'Pol was unable to speak. She was only able to feel her frantic heartbeat.

Trip asked again. "Do I have to think so?"

T'Pol roused herself. "No. NO. NO! **NO!**"

Trip smiled, glad and satisfied. Then he spoke again. "I know. But I want to tell you something. Yes. Yet something else."

He crossed his arms on his chest for the third time, and, lowering his chin, tortured the inner side of his cheek with his tongue. T'Pol now knew for sure that it was his habit to do this when he had something difficult or toe-curling to do or to say.

Finally, he raised his eyes to T'Pol and began to speak, steadily and firmly.

"I told you I don't deny I am attracted to beautiful females. I think any man has this sort of obvious and natural tendency inside, and so I was attracted to Ah'len, even if nothing - I REPEAT - nothing occurred between her and me."

Trip sighed deeply. "And so I was also attracted to Liana. _**And to Kaitaama**_."

He stared fixedly at T'Pol.

"It's strange, T'Pol. Why should I feel guilty because I permitted myself to innocently allow Liana to kiss me? That was the sole thing - you have to believe me - which happened between the two of us. Why, should I feel like this? You had never revealed anything to me which would have given me the slightest indication that you cared for me, even if that was, indeed, what I would have wanted. And.... even if I was carefully masking this desire even to myself. But, anyway, you were merely the distant and cold Vulcan woman who filled my thoughts, without me being able to fight against that. You were nothing else. And, in spite of that, I felt guilty when Liana went away, and I started to think about what had happened between her and me. I feel guilty even now."

Trip smiled almost lachrymosely to T'Pol. "Do you see, my _**really**_ torturing delight? Do you see the power you have over me?"

T'Pol was silent. She truly didn't know how she could respond.

Trip smiled again, between self-pity and self-mockery. "Kaitaama..." He gazed meaningfully at T'Pol. "Kaitaama... was... another thing. I... made love with her."

T'Pol knew. She had suspected it ever since she and the others had found Trip and Kaitaama, that distant day. And Trip had told this to her, even if not so openly, during their neuropressure sessions. She knew it wasn't fair that she felt so sad and so wounded because of what had happened between her... **HER!**... Trip and that... that sort-of princess. She had never allowed her T'hai'la to see any indication that she cared for him, as he had rightly said. She had been nothing but... _the distant and cold Vulcan woman_... who filled his thoughts. Like he was filling hers.

No. It wasn't fair that she felt so.

But she felt. _She felt irrationally sad and wounded._ At war with herself. And frustrated by these illogical feelings.

She heard Trip's voice, which was raised again in a thoughtful tone.

Trip had lifted his hands and was clasping them tightly before him. "It has been a spark, Hon. Sudden and unforeseen, not sought by either of us."

Trip wasn't able to bear the wounded look of T'Pol, he just wasn't. But he had to tell her everything.

"Maybe it was the dangerous and difficult situation in which we had found ourselves, or maybe the need I perceived in Kaitaama for a little bit of assurance, or... my own weakness. But then again... why would I have avoided that? What the hell was there between you and me, which could have prevented me from doing that? Why the hell should I have felt guilty because of something which is natural between males and females?"

Trip's voice grew loud. "Why, Hon? Oh, but because that female wasn't _**you! **_"

He watched T'Pol with a look that T'Pol would never forget. His hands lowered slowly until they stayed immovable to either side of him.

His voice rang strange when he resumed his talk. It seemed as if there was some kind of an unknown turmoil inside of him.

"T'Pol... you may or may not believe me, but when I did what I did, I was making love... with you."

T'Pol felt her legs tremble. She had to brace herself with her hand against the wall. Her T'hai'la was telling her that he...

"I was in love with you. I understood that finally. Plainly and adamantly. You were the woman I wanted to cover with kisses. You, only you, were the woman I wanted to hold tightly in my arms, to make love with. And from that moment I understood that I could never again make love to a woman who wasn't you."

Trip paused. "And when I said good-bye to Kaitaama, I said good-bye to all my self-deceits."

He chuckled again. "And to my serenity, too. Even if, frankly, I've had little of that since I met you."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow, as if she wanted to rebuke Trip, but she knew he was right.

Trip kept on, shaking his left hand in front of him. "Oh yeah, T'Pol. Because from that moment on, I really didn't know what the hell I had to do. Now it was clear to me what I felt for you, but you, Hon... well! You were still the same T'Pol; you didn't give me the tiniest handhold to let me say something to you. Where the hell could I have found the courage to tell you what you mean to me?"

T'Pol frowned, in spite of all her Vulcan training, of all her Vulcan control. Just so. She had still been the same T'Pol, the same stolid woman who denied all her feelings as if there was something shameful in those feelings, in... in being alive.

While she was silently reproaching herself for having acted in this way, she was listening to her T'hai'la's words, which, if possible, only increased her anger toward herself.

Once again Trip was speaking, his words revealing his inner thoughts, the thoughts he had had after he ceased to hide the truth from himself.

"_Okay man. Now... First, you have to find the right moment. Mh... the evening? Yes. Second, where? The mess hall? No, no. Not at all! Her quarters, sure. I.. I should arrive, ring her doorbell, wait for her to ask who is there, then say... 'It's me. Commander Tucker.' - 'Come in.' - 'Thanks.' - 'Do you have something to tell me?' - 'Y...Yes, Sub-Commander. I... I...' - Yes?' - 'I...' _"

Trip tittered tensely. "Indeed. And what the devil should I have told you? _Look, T'Pol. I know it sounds incredible, but... well... so... in short... I fell in love with you! And... and...._"

Trip shook his head. "Well! The least I could expect was that you would have given me your damn Vulcan Pinch before sending for Security, don't you think?"

The shout exploded from T'Pol lungs, unrestrainable and sincere. "No! I don't think so!"

Trip looked pensively at T'Pol, passing his fingers through his hair. "Well, I know this now, but how could I have suspected anything of the sort at that time?"

T'Pol remained silent. The memory of Sim came to her. Sim - the man who had revealed to her that Trip was in love with her. Her behaviour had been so illogical and stupid that the man who had manifested Trip's love for her hadn't been Trip. She had to become aware of that through a third party. What a lot of time she had wasted. What a lot. And what a moronic, irrational struggle she'd waged within, before she was able to accept what her life had to be!

Trip appeared extremely serious now. He was still leaning on the windowsill, his hands grasping the ledge on either side of him.

"Then there were the Xindi."

His voice grew sad.

"And the death of my sister."

He sighed. Deeply and woefully.

"My life started down a dark road. I became a different man. Sour. Bitter. Alone."

His eyes lingered on T'Pol's tense face.

"But just like some kind of miracle, YOU were still there. With us. With me. And you... "

T'Pol was able to feel what he was going to say.

"... you gave me your help."

T'Pol would have wanted to make him aware of all the help he had given her in her solitude, but Trip went on, not allowing her to say an only word.

"The neuropressure, T'Pol."

T'Pol felt, perspicuously, what her T'hai'la would have said.

"A new intimacy was born between us, and a high wind inflated the sail of my hope."

Trip smiled cheerfully and rejoicingly. "Until the moment that you..."

But T'Pol stopped him abruptly. "I know what I did."

She looked at him with a hard gaze, while Trip was trying to understand what was happening to her.

T'Pol took a deep breath. She knew she was about to make a very big mistake, but she had to know. **She had to**!

"Trip."

He was waiting for her question.

She attempted to smooth her tone.

"If... if you were... in love with me, and if the neuropressure was useful in creating a new intimacy between us so that you could show your feelings for me and to me... why didn't you do or say anything? And, above all,..." _Now! Now! She had to know!_ "... if you knew that I... was your destiny, as you said, since you and..." _Difficult, very difficult to say this!_ "... you and Kaitaama... " _No! She wasn't able to say it!_ "... why... why you and... and Corporal Cole... ?" _Not even that, she was able to say!_

The most roguish of the smiles blossomed on Trip's mouth. "Well. It seemed to work, didn't it?"

T'Pol's eyes were agape. She opened her mouth to speak. Difficultly. With effort. "You! You... you did it on purpose!"

For a moment, Trip feared his T'Pol was going to whack him with all her Vulcan strength.

He raised his arms in a comical gesture of surrender. "Wait, Hon, wait! Please let me explain!"

T'Pol crossed her arms over her chest, like Trip was used to doing. "I'm... all ears, Ashayam!"

Trip was not delighted by the hissing sound of that _Ashayam_.

He swallowed hard and placed his hands behind his back, the way T'Pol was used to doing. He was restless and ill at ease on his feet.

He attempted to show the best puppy eyes he was able to do. "Darlin', you must understand. The end justifies the means."

T'Pol's eyes flashed dangerously.

Trip bit his tongue, which was working frenetically against the inner side of his cheek. "Darlin', I only wanted ..."

"You made a fool of me."

"But, Hon..."

"And you inveigled treacherously and meanly Corporal Cole."

"Eh? Hey, Hon!"

"You should writhe with embarrassment!"

"What? Eh no! Enough now!"

Now Trip had become angry. Really rather pissed off. There were some limits, for Pete's sake!

He detached himself from the window sill and took one step toward T'Pol, tightening his hands into fists and placing them on his hips.

He glared at T'Pol.

"Hey, my _'All Transparency and Honesty'_ dear Miss Vulcan, is that what you think of me?"

He pointed his forefinger at T'Pol.

"I never thought to trade on Cole. And I never believed that you might think that of me."

Suddenly T'Pol felt very ashamed. It was true. Never had her Trip played with the feelings of anyone. It was foreign to him. She knew him too well now not to be aware that he was earnest, always. And sincere. But... but...

Before she was able to say anything, Trip resumed his talk.

He had recoiled toward the window and had put his hands on the windowsill's edge, behind him. He leaned back against the windowsill and bent his right knee, placing the sole of his bare right foot on the low wall behind him.

"I don't deny, T'Pol, that I thought the frank attraction Cole was clearly showing for me could have been of some help, but never... never... did I think to cozen her. I didn't take the initiative with her. I limited myself to following her initiatives. It never... never... included more than sharing neuropressure sessions and our time together, even if I didn't discourage her from thinking otherwise. And the neuropressure sessions she and I had, Hon... they didn't have even the tiniest emotional impact compared to those you and I shared."

Once more T'Pol was struck by a real storm of contrasting emotions that the words of her Mate were capable of arousing inside her. Why was she feeling happy - this was the right term - that her T'hai'la was telling her that she was indeed different from any other woman who was attracted to him, and... and at the same time pleased that so many women were attracted to him? She felt... she felt jealous because of the many women he was capable of enticing with his charm. And yet, she was proud that he was so charming and delighted by the awareness that she was the only one whom he cared for. The only one he gave his attention. His affection. His devotion. His love.

Should this be her life? Could she deal with these gusty, unpredictable emotions? Was it right that a Vulcan should live in this whirlpool of crashing emotions, which were proper to Human race, not to hers? Was it sufficient that her T'hai'la would still be there, ready to be her haven? Was... was the game worth the candle, as her Ashayam would say?

And her thoughts returned to her father once more.

(*_Father..._*)

_"Every person is, by the definition, a single one. And every single one, by the definition, has his single path. Nobody has the right to judge anyone. And nobody can think he is better than the others. Peoples, and races, frequently make the mistake of believing that their own paths are the only right paths. We must cast out our fear. We must search for our own right path. And when we find it, we mustn't have doubts. That's the true teaching of Surak."_

(*_Father... your hand is still holding mine._*)

The unmistakable voice of her beloved brought T'Pol back to the world. He was talking with certainty and reliability.

"You are afraid, T'Pol? And me? Do you believe I wasn't very afraid during our neuropressure sessions? I perceived that there was something new, unknown, warming, between us. But... was it true? Or was it... who knows, only the beguiling siren call of my desire? And... and how could I have found the right words? I had told you there were rumours about the two of us, and your words had been reassuring, but also ambiguous. How... how could I have dared? I didn't want to lose so stupidly the sun which was lighting my life."

T'Pol clenched her hands behind her. Was there a way to make her heart stop bouncing?

The mesmerizing sound of her Ashyam's voice wove a spell as he made his revelations.

"Then one fine moment, I realized something. I told you about my time with Ah'len and Liana and Kaitaama, too, because I wanted to open myself to you. But... but I also wanted to... to test you."

T'Pol looked fixedly at Trip's eyes, and Trip didn't see in her look anything which appeared to be really harsh toward him. On the contrary, T'Pol's eyes seemed to encourage him to go on, maybe not exactly sweetly, but, anyway...

He gathered his courage.

"You... you didn't seem to me to be exactly... exactly happy about my previous exploits. So..." Trip swallowed hard, rubbing his sweaty hands nervously behind him. "... so I thought Cole's behaviour toward me could... could have been of some help."

T'Pol was absolutely silent. Her Vulcan mask didn't show anything.

Trip slipped his tongue between his dry lips.

"And... and it seemed to work, in my eyes, judging... judging from your expressions and your words during... during our little conversation, when... when you told me it would be better if I stopped teaching neuropressure to her."

T'Pol's visage and attitude didn't show the slightest change.

Trip swallowed again.

"I... I... I swear to God, Hon. I was only searching for a way out. I only hoped that, maybe... maybe Cole's conduct... the way she and I were acting... could have... could have..."

T'Pol interrupted him firmly and sternly. "... Forced me to break cover?"

"Yeah... just... sure... well... e... e...exactly... just so... I ... you... she... I..."

Suddenly, T'Pol's expression changed, and she stared at Trip with the sweetest look in the universe. "It worked, Ashayam. And I am quite glad of that."

Trip wasn't able to speak intelligibly. "I... I... I... I... you... you... you... you... we... we... we..."

Then he closed his mouth tightly. He sighed. Sighed again. Finally he spoke, more understandably.

"I... I... I swear, my treasure! Never did I want to deceive you! The stunned and surprised expression on my face when you decided to take the initiative in our first night of love was the result of my incredulity that my little manoeuvre was able to have such a unexpected and unheard-of outcome. But, above all, - ABOVE ALL, MY TREASURE! - the result of my incredulity that the dreams I had not even dared to dream came true!"

Trip took a very short pause in his talk. Then...

"And... and... and I never wanted to play along with Cole. And ab... absolutely - ABSOLUTELY!- nothing happened between us! And... and I tried to speak to her, even before you... you did... Oh well!... But she preceded me. She told me that, regardless of the fact that our neuropressure sessions had to stop, it was better that we ceased to see each other anymore. Obviously I refrained from investigating the causes of her withdrawal, and she didn't explain anything to me. She only muttered something I wasn't able to understand, something about her need to avoid any future physical pain. Honestly, this really baffled me, given that I couldn't have harmed her anymore since our neuropressure sessions had ended."

T'Pol winced inside. Maybe she had been a little too harsh with Corporal Cole. But she didn't really feel guilty about that painful... manoeuvre she had inadvertently given to that... to that MACO female.

Something in her expression must have been revealing because her Mate asked her in a teasing tone: "Did you have anything to do with Cole's strange behaviour, my... sweet, sweet Hon?"

T'Pol wasn't able to do anything but raising her eyebrow. Definitely her T'hai'la had learned to know her very, very well.

Trip laughed, quieted and reassured now about his... sweet, sweet Hon.

He gesticulated with his hands. "Once again, do you see the tremendous power you have over me? You made me, the most dewy-eyed of men, capable of acting in such a Machiavellian way."

Then he returned serious. Terribly serious.

He again crossed his arms, still maintaining the same position. "But, T'Pol... my unique love..."

T'Pol's legs trembled again powerfully, when she heard that word "unique."

"... if you want to have some idea of the real power you have over me, let me tell you something about what happened to me when I left _Enterprise_, trying to chase the thought of you from my mind."

Trip lowered again his head to his chest for a few moments, focusing on the words he wanted to say. Then he levelled his eyes on T'Pol's face.

"You are afraid that this Bond, this sort of link, unknown even to you, might frighten me. You told me that Vulcan Bond-Mates tend to be tied to each other for life, and you are scared this will appal me. You are afraid that one day I could get tired of this overwhelming liaison, overwhelming for a Human man."

T'Pol never ceased to wonder how it was possible that he was able to be so illogical, so volatile, so inconsistent, so irreparably boylike and, at the same time, so capable of analysing any problem, reducing any baffling subject to its raw essence, and providing a solution in a few well-chosen words, something that very few Vulcans could manage with all their logic.

"T'Pol..." Trip focused his look acutely on T'Pol's eyes. "The daydreams, the white room, the difficulty sleeping... they were strong, powerful. The Bond, as you explained to me, was doing its job. But it wasn't the Bond which was forcing me to think constantly of you. It wasn't the heartbreaking need I was feeling for your mere presence. There was another thing, my inscrutable love, in comparison of which, the Bond..." Trip laughed jocosely. "... isn't at all a big deal."

T'Pol was hanging on Trip's every word. He had just explained to her what he meant when he said, '_I guess we've got a lot of work to do.'_ She felt the tips of her ears getting warm. But he hadn't explained to her the meaning of his other statement: _This Bond isn't that big of a deal_.

Trip became serious again. He had uncrossed his arms and was attempting to find a place for his hands.

The tenderness, the devotion, the love with which Trip spoke to her would heat T'Pol's heart for eternity.

"You enchained me with a chain which doesn't obey any biological Vulcan imperative. It's impalpable and still unbreakable."

Trip stared into T'Pol's endlessly deep eyes.

"It's your love, T'Pol. And it's a chain I cannot and will not ever want to sever."

And at that moment T'Pol understood everything. Everything. She was in love with Trip. She was in love with him beyond the biological imperatives of her race. Thanks to him, she was free. No scent. No Bond. No Pon Farr. No insuppressible hormonal imbalance. No instinctual and demanding need. No mere animal urgency. Only free, unrestrained love. That was the gift - the immeasurable gift - he had given her. The ability to transcend the miserable biological needs of her great and still constrained... unlucky... race. And, even if only for that, he would be her Ashayam forevermore.

But this gift, this gift without comparisons was only the simple, yet marvellous consequence of something which had gushed in her heart, something very, very different from, something over and above, the mere potency of the smell with which Trip had first claimed her on that distant day.

T'Pol stared at her Mate with a look that spoke volumes.

Yes, finally she understood.

Sometime - she didn't know when, she didn't know how - she had fallen in love with Trip, really in love, beyond any scent-stimulated claim, any organic explanation.

Trip was right. There was no reason to think that it was a result of the Bond, the linkage which tied them to each other. No reason that he was able to perceive it as a sort of constraint with which her Vulcan nature had anchored him. No, absolutely no reason, because it was simply the fruit of the feeling which was born in her soul, the biological Vulcan reverberation of the Ashaya which had claimed her.

She had been unable to realize the... the logic, yes!... the **supernal** logic of this Ashaya, this LOVE she had fought against, stubbornly and irresponsibly. Although she'd struggled against this Ashaya, it became, on the exact moment she'd accepted it, _the chain that her T'hai'la was unable to and would never have wanted to break._

_In comparison, the Bond really... really ... wasn't at all a big deal._

T'Pol felt something unknown mounting powerfully inside her. She perceived beyond any uncertainties that the real reason her Ashayam had become her Ashayam, her eternal Ashayam, was the Ashaya which had burgeoned inside her.

And through the Bond, this indecipherable and mysterious thing, about which she knew little or nothing, she knew that her Trip knew this, too.

There were some moments of tense silence. Then Trip thought he had to break the odd atmosphere.

"If there must be someone who has to feel fear, this one has to be me, Hon. For certain."

T'Pol attentively scrutinized her Mate's face. She attempted to uncover what was hidden behind the sly sparkling of his blue eyes. "You mean?"

Trip chuckled, moving his right hand to signify for T'Pol to wait.

He began to recite a day schedule, marking every point off with his fingers.

"_**Six o'clock a.m.**_ Reveille. Kiss her. Making her awakening the best.

_**"Half past six a.m.**_ Her awakening has been very good. Shower. Together. Some difficulties getting really clean. Found a way. Indeed pleasant and... satisfactory.

_**"Seven o'clock a.m.**_ Dress, damn it! Go on duty. Kiss her cheek. Leave her quarters. Together. Deliciously and dangerously hand in hand.

_**"Seven o'clock a.m., a bit later**_. Mess hall. Breakfast. Professional behaviour. Fingers touch under the table.

_**"Half past seven a.m.**_ Parting, bloody hell!

_**"Morning.**_ Work. Thinking of her.

_**"Half past twelve.**_ Lunch. Together. Not good. First argument of the day. Her indigestible priggishness. Got angry with her. Part again. No hidden finger touching.

_**"Four o'clock p.m.**_ Miss her. Feeling guilty. Go to the bridge. No need, only want to see her. Give some stupid pretext. Try to get her attention. She ignores me. Return to engineering. Work again. Cursing. Damn Vulcan female! Wonder why the hell I have fallen in love with her.

_**"Half past five p.m.**_ Engineering. A tickle in the mind. Her smell. Turn around. See her. Try to talk. Argue again. Upsetting Vulcan behaviour. Fervent desire to strangle her. With a raised eyebrow, she leaves me.

_**"Evening. Half past seven. **_**Her quarters. **Brought ploomek soup and pecan pie to have a romantic dinner with her, as an apology. Frosty silence. Long to twist her delightful neck. Damned stubborn woman! Nevertheless, even with all her stiffness, she sets her small table for two persons.

_**"Evening. Half past eight. **_**After dinner. **Pecan pie worked. Light touch from her fingers, but she still appears stiff. Nevertheless, she begins her meditation, without telling me to go away.

_**"Evening. Nine o'clock. **_Attempt to read something during her meditation. Impossible. She's too beautiful. When she meditates, she appears even more beautiful, if that's possible. Watch her meditating. Think about how to demonstrate to her that arguing doesn't count for a bloody thing between lovebirds.

_**"Evening. Half past nine.**_ Found the way. She finished her meditation and does not seem to disagree with my suggestion.

_**"Night. Eleven o'clock. **_End of a long and satisfying demonstration. Uh... no. No ending. She says that she is a Vulcan and a scientist. She says scientific method needs iterated and exhaustive demonstrations. She says rigorous Vulcan minds search naturally for iterated and exhaustive demonstrations. She says that, she being a Vulcan and a scientist, she needs, exceedingly, iterated and exhaustive demonstrations.

_**"Midnight.**_** Sleep, finally. **Additional demonstrations have been dutifully, deliciously performed. Only slightly fatiguing.

_**"Past midnight. **_Woken up by a light touch on the face. Get my eyes open. See her looking closely at me, lying upon me, her arms on my chest. She says she has some doubts about my latest demonstration. There is a necessity for some supplementary demonstrations. I proceed.

_**"Two o'clock a.m. **_Awakened by a touch. Two soft lips gently nibble at my ear. Eyes snap open. Something wasn't perfectly understood in my reiterated demonstration. Some small clarifications are needed. I... proceed.

_**"Half past four a.m. **_A small, moist mouth brushes against my chest. Further demonstrations seem to be needed. I... proceed. Again.

_**"Half past six a.m.**_ Shower. Alone. Need to get really awake and alert on the offing of the coming day. Didn't awaken her because of my fearfulness that some of my previous demonstrations might have been less than perfect. Ponder on the ability of a certain Vulcan to function at peak capacity without a lot of sleep.

_**"Half past six a.m. A very short bit later.**_ Still in the shower. Two well-known and silky arms embrace me from behind. A slight touch of two equally well-known and soft lips on my neck. **Some... kind of light fear**. Her tempting voice telling me I didn't wake her up and, above all, I didn't wake her up the way I always have. Deduced and detailed consequences from her: f**irst**, inevitable new arguing; **second**, inevitable impairment of any previous demonstration from me; **third**, necessity to start my demonstrations all over again. Inevitably and immediately. I... proceed. Immediately and... inevitably. All over again."

Trip chuckled cheerfully at T'Pol, who was listening attentively to his itemized articulation with a cryptic expression on her face.

Then he spelled out the last item of his list.

"_**Last muddled inner musing, while beginning my day.**_ The _CPDBAVSB is very effective, considering that even T'Pol seemed to be speaking in good faith when she told us that baloney about the Vulcan habit of doing _**_this thing_**_ every seven years._"

Hands crossed behind her back, eyebrow raised to underline her puzzled look, T'Pol questioned Trip: "CPDBAVSB?"

Trip laughed aloud. "Citizens' Privacy Defence Bureau About Vulcan Sexual Behaviour."

T'Pol was tempted to snort. "This... _Bureau_ doesn't exist and..."

Trip wasn't able to stop his laughing. "No?"

And T'Pol wasn't able to not snort. "No. And, as I was attempting to say before you interrupted me so _**c-i-v-i-l-l-y**_, I never said that Vulcans aren't able to do... _**this thing**_...outside their mating cycle."

Trip's loud laugh became a horse-laugh. When he managed to bottle up the gale of laughter, he said, "Oh... oh sure!... Sure, Honey!... I can personally testify to that!"

And now T'Pol had to snort again, and to roll her eyes, too. But she was also sure that the warmth she had antecedently felt at the tips of her ears had turned into an evident flush because Trip was designedly looking at them and, in doing that, his laugh had become practically a guffaw.

And T'Pol knew he had all the reasons in the world to do that.

Indeed. He was certainly going over the top, but - T'Pol felt the blushing of her ears become more intense - only to a certain point. To put it frankly, she hadn't been... cold after their reunion.

_But... eh..._ She enjoyed her acquired ability to joke, even to herself. _They had a lot of work to do._

And thus she replied to Trip, her fists on her hips, the way her T'hai'la was in habit of doing when he was defying things and people. Thus she savoured her new ability to tease him like he was used to doing with her.

"I got the impression that, as you said, we... had a lot of work to do."

Trip remained really mouth agape at her words, but that was nothing as he heard T'Pol's following sentence.

"And then, my _**afraid**_ Ashayam, in spite of the_ 'light fear _' that you mentioned, you never seemed to me to have many problems with _**this type**_ of work."

If someone had had to describe the expression which appeared on Trip's face when T'Pol said that, this someone would have failed, without any doubt.

But he recovered quickly and smirked mischievously at T'Pol. He scanned her lovely features from head to feet, evidently with some purpose in mind.

"Well, my delicious Vulcan Lady, maybe you had a lot of good reasons to be jealous, but I have an _**e-x-c-e-e-d-i-n-g**_ number of good reasons to not have any... problem with this peculiar work, don't you think?"

And so, T'Pol's ears got that really dark-green once and for all. Vermilion, if she was Human.

Trip laughed softly for some moments, then he said, "Anyway, Hon, if someone should be afraid, most likely that someone should be me. For many reasons."

Then, little by little, his laugh turned into a tenuous smile. "Yes. For many reasons. Because, joking apart, Hon, if... if I have to judge from the past, don't you think... don't you think the one who should be afraid of being left alone... should be me?"

It was like the heat in T'Pol's ears was going down, inside her, wrapping her whole self with a mild and contemporaneously searing warmth.

And she understood that she had to do something. Immediately.

And she knew what she had to do.

And she did.

She jumped, rushed, covered the short distance between her and Trip in a flash.

She grabbed his head, drew it toward hers, and raised herself up on the tips of her toes. Her height, even if increased by her wedge-heeled sandals, did not allow her to reach his mouth with her mouth the way she wanted.

She held his face tightly against hers and grasped his lips with her lips.

She kissed him.

Eyes closed.

Passionately.

Deeply.

Amorously.

Tenderly.

Sweetly.

Possessively.

Lovingly.

Very lovingly.

With all she had learned from him and she was feeling for him, she wanted to demonstrate her love for him.

By him. Thank him. Because of him. Through him.

Forever HIM!

Him! Him! Him! HIM!

As soon as she deepened the kiss, she felt his arms enfold her, his lips respond to hers, his mouth smother hers. And all the while her brain was awhirl.

(*_Thank you, father. Thank you, great-grandmother. Thank you,... Mestral!_ *)

When the need for air forced them to detach their lips from each others, T'Pol pulled back slightly, her eyes on Trip's lips.

Then she raised her eyes, her long and delicates eyelashes sweetly fluttering with endless glamour.

She talked hoarsely and soundly. Slowly.

Meaningfully.

"Is this an adequate response to your question, _My Ashayam? _"

Trip stared at her for awhile, in a daze.

Then...

He suddenly put his hand into the small pocket of his shirt and tore it off with force.

He stretched out his hand toward T'Pol, presenting the smithereens of the small pocket to her.

He spoke with a harsh voice. "I never called that woman, T'Pol. NEVER!"

Then, in a rapid gesture, he lacerated his shirt, denuding his torso and dashing the shirt to the ground. "And I think the time has arrived to purchase another shirt."

T'Pol watched him.

She watched the mesmerizing game the moonlight was playing on his hair, darkening its sunny colour with argentine reflections.

She watched the strong muscles of his bare arms.

Of his nude torso.

Oh yes! She had stupidly wasted time, but now she would make up for the time she had lost.

She threw herself on his chest, laying her hands flat and lustfully upon it, brushing her lips against it. She whispered on his skin with a husky voice.

"I prefer you bare-chested."

She felt his arms embrace her. His hands slipped under her tank top, caressing the naked skin of her back.

She felt his arousal, sudden and powerful, both physically and through the Bond.

She felt pride in her ability to exert such an unconquerable power over him, and his pride in her pride.

And she felt, puissant and unstoppable, the unvanquishable desire to push her power to extremes.

She abruptly disentangled herself from him, escaping from his hug and running toward a corner of the room. She halted there and turned toward Trip, looking at him with shining and riant eyes.

Trip wasn't sure... but the gentle noise of a silvery female giggle seemed to resound from her.

She was observing him with something unknown and warming in the dazzling light of her eyes.

And her voice was light and entrancing when she talked to him.

"There's a thing which is true both on Earth and on Vulcan, if what I've learned from my conversations with Hoshi corresponds to the truth. Women have to be conquered. They must never give themselves too easily. To anyone. Men have to fight to earn what they want."

She beckoned luringly with her hand. "The opening gambit is yours."

Trip was incapable of believing his ears and his eyes. T'Pol, this mysterious woman he was fortunate to have, was inviting him to play the timeless love game between males and females. Or rather, she was inviting him to play for real. She, T'Pol the Vulcan, the most unpredictable and charming woman in the universe, was challenging him to... to conquer her, to fight for her, to... to claim her, even if she already belonged to him.

And something happened to Trip.

A desire, a need, a necessity.

To fight and to battle.

Having her, taking her, conquering her.

Possessing her.

What is... that Bond? Was it possible that he was changing in some way, just like he had perceived that she had subtly changed after they had gotten together again?

Trip had sensed a new sweetness growing in her. She was now more relaxed. This in no way diminished her Vulcan essence, her usual rigorous way of life but, rather, enriched her attitudes, turning her, somehow, into a new and more fascinating woman, if that was possible.

Vulcan.

Strongly, rigorously... _marvellously_... Vulcan.

And Human.

Subtly, indecipherably ... _wonderfully_... Human.

Unique.

Now that he was aware of all her struggles within, of the whys and wherefores, he had gained a new appreciation for her final acceptance of their love and, consequently, of her own nature, of her individual being.

But inside her, the Vulcan was still living and puissant. She WAS Vulcan.

And for Vulcans, because of their emotions and their cultural traditions, everything was a fight.

To the death.

So Trip finally understood that T'Pol was responding, maybe quite unconsciously, to her ancestral Vulcan heritage.

It sounded wrong somehow that it was just he, rather than T'Pol, the one who was able to comprehend this truth, but it was so. Perhaps... perhaps it was just because he was in love with her, and she with him, in a way which was inevitably Vulcan and Human at the same time. Now Trip understood. If, in order to be his, she had to become a little bit Human, it was only fair that he, in order to have her, had to become a little bit Vulcan. There was no other way.

Then another thought flashed in his mind.

Was T'Pol aware that she would probably become a stranger to her race? Suddenly... a strange fear, indefinite, almost... a _**premonition**_... touched his soul: most likely, his OWN race could ostracize them. His race was young and impetuous and scared of the unknown, but her race, in contrast, was hard-shelled, averse to change, and contemptuous of other races.

Was T'Pol aware that she could become a pariah on her home world? That maybe he wouldn't be able to give her a new homeland? They would share the same fate. Their love could doom them to a destiny of solitude, perhaps even peril.

Of course, she was conscious of all that! She was the smarter of the smarter of the smarter of all Vulcans!

But she was... she was...

A rebel?

Why? Because she had been capable of acting against her people's traditions? Of defying the High Command? Of refusing her betrothed? Of giving herself to a man from another species? For love? For Ashaya?

Yes. Maybe. Maybe she was a rebel, but Trip understood plainly. He knew for sure that she was a rebel because she was more Vulcan than any other Vulcan. When she was finally free of Koss, she had told him that she needed time. This rejection had actually been caused by her struggle with the force of her roots - true, demanding, powerful - and the grim reality of the Vulcan society she had grown up in.

She was beyond and ahead of her race.

She was... unique.

She was closer to her origins than most of her fellow countrymen. The search for Logic had obviously left its mark on her, but if true a Vulcan existed, this Vulcan was T'Pol. And this explained all about her and made her uniqueness even more unique.

She was a pearl, rare and lucent, and Trip had to gain this pearl, even if by means of a joyous love game.

This game, which she was inviting him to, was surely a Human love game, like those they had seen in the movies they had watched together, and it was wondrous that T'Pol wanted to do this now, whereas before she had only lifted her eyebrow in a perplexed manner.

And this was her newly acquired and enthralling Human side.

But it was undeniable that, for her, for the equally enthralling and insuppressible Vulcan side of her, a love battle meant a love fight in real terms.

She had accepted his love, but Trip knew he also had to prove that he deserved HER love.

She should be _**conquered**_ by him.

Maybe it shouldn't be "to the death", but, someway...

Trip sighed quietly.

How he loved her! How proud he was to have such an incomparable woman! How happy he was that she was defying him to have her!

How he loved her explosive mixture of strong Vulcanesses and new, unfathomable Humaneness.

And how proud he was that she wanted him to act as a Vulcan mate would, but without betraying his Human nature.

And... Trip looked deeply inside himself... and realized how proud he was of HIS own burgeoning Vulcaness, mixed with his own Human being. He knew for sure, at that moment, that his T'Pol had started to change him, the way he had begun to do with her.

And all this because she had chosen to love. For Ashaya. She had chosen him, his love and her Ashaya. And because of this, he should honour her into eternity.

Honour?

This word, born spontaneously in his brain, had a neat, Vulcan flavour, and so Trip no longer had any doubt that the miracle of their love was the mixing of their essences. The fact that he was able to have the same thoughts as a Vulcan, just when his Vulcan woman was acting the same way, seemed to offer incontrovertible evidence of this truth. Surak's teachings came suddenly to his mind: because of their differences, T'Pol and he together... _will become greater than the sum of both of them._

Trip chuckled softly to himself. Where was the stupid Human man who hated Vulcans? That man had fallen in love with a Vulcan female, and now... he was becoming a bit Vulcan himself and not angry because of that. Not at all. Better that none of his old friends become aware of all this, and better, much better that, for now, he and T'Pol would stay away from his family. Sure. He wouldn't be capable of bearing the inevitable and innumerable banters his friends of the past and his family would pour onto him, at the thought that the one who spurned and loathed Vulcans has now a Vulcan woman as his sweetheart, even if so damnedly beautiful. And...

And...

A painful thought stirred, sudden and unwelcome, across Trip's mind, a thought which he chased off, down, in the dark, in the depth of his soul, erasing it the way... yes... the way Vulcans do when they have to face untoward and untenable, unmanageable, intractable emotions.

Just so. Because, maybe... maybe not only friendly banters could be what he and... and especially - ESPECIALLY! - his T'Pol... should have to withstand.

All this whirled inside Trip in a flash, while his Vulcan woman was waiting with poignant expectancy.

He focused on her, on her sight, and any else thought, any else thing, except her, faded away from his mind.

Trip stared at the splendid, unique woman - UNIQUE! Now he was aware of that for certain. She was standing up, her soft features and her petit and still athletic figure highlighted by moonlight, which gave her an air of a lunar goddess, an amazon of the night.

She was silent and calm but her eyes were shining.

She was waiting for his gambit.

He tightened his eyes. Okay. He was prepared for combat.

He gathered himself and then... he sprang up. He dashed with a powerful effort of his loins toward T'Pol, and... easily and handily she dodged him.

And this time he was sure. It was an argentine giggle from her; the sound reverberated in the air.

He turned around quickly and saw T'Pol, who was standing a short distance away, watching him steadily, ready for his next move.

Trip remained motionless for some moments as if studying her and the way she would act.

Then, unpredictably, he flew again at T'Pol, and once again she was able to avoid his grasp, apparently with no effort.

She ran away from him and he ran after her. Just an inch from her, he tried to grab her with his outstretched hands, but she began to zigzag through the room with all her Vulcan and femininely ferine agility, escaping from his grip with a sudden and catlike dart every time he was on the point of seizing her.

Panting, Trip finally stopped and looked at T'Pol, who had halted in her turn. She was observing him from a few steps away; she was panting, too.

Trip attempted to gain time and divert her attention.

He designedly watched T'Pol's bosom rising and falling attractively beneath her tank top as she tried to catch her breath.

"Huff! _**Bellavista**_, eh?" He was study her as a predator studies his prey.

And the prey was looking at him as if she was teasing him

The predator grinned. "You know, I have a smattering of Italian."

The prey replied defiantly and in a scoffing way. "Me, too."

The predator smirked with ostentation and contentedness.

Conquering such a wonderful and artful prey would be the ultimate challenge. Engines were nothing in comparison.

But he would win.

The predator and the prey carried on observing each other with keen attention.

Then...

The prey lowered her eyes to her tank top for an instant, and right after she stared at her predator with a sort of evil dancing in her eyes.

The prey spoke again. "Human and Vulcan databases are in perfect agreement that it is a point of honour that a duel has to be fought on equal terms. Consequently..."

She gazed at him with a kind of amused sparkle in her eyes, and then... unexpectedly... she slipped her tank top over her head with a fluid motion, throwing it to the ground as Trip had done with his shirt.

And showing him her firm breasts in all their magnificent nudity.

And in front of a breathless Trip, almost pretending to do it inadvertently, T'Pol began to pass her fingertips slowly over her breasts, from the bottom to the top, with studied nonchalance.

And Trip opened his mouth, searching for air.

The sparkle in T'Pol's eyes intensified. She looked at Trip with the most baby-faced of baby faces. "Do you appreciate this, Ashayam?"

Trip began to babble. "I... you... I..."

"Obviously, I'm alluding to my chivalrous gesture. As for... _**this**_..."

She encircled her breasts with her hands, lifting them so they were in full view for Trip, almost offering them to him. Her air of childlike candour made it seem as if she was almost unaware of what she was doing.

"... I think, judging from past experience, you definitely appreciate it very much."

Trip almost choked.

"That's a little strange, in my opinion." T'Pol's tone was the most innocent and the most seriously puzzled of tones. Looking down, she stared pensively at her breasts, which she still held in her hands.

"Yes, slightly strange because I was persuaded since our interaction in the Decon Chamber, and naturally my awful bum apart, that the parts of my anatomy you preferred were... these."

And, while uttering these words, T'Pol let go of her breasts and pinched the tips of her ears between thumb and forefinger, stretching them upward and displaying on her face an expression never seen before.

The tip of her tongue was stuck out.

Her eyes were crossed.

Ultimately... her face was making a grimace with a joshing amusement.

And then, with her hands still stretching her ear tips, her lips widened in an unequivocal smile, displaying her perfect white teeth. From her mouth, free and loud, came a marvellous, resonant chant.

A very undeniable, warming, enthralling, pleasuring, crystalline... female laugh.

Marvel, delight, pleasure, incredulity...

All that and much more swirled in Trip's mind like a vortex, indistinct and chaotic. He wasn't able to stop.

He stared in a daze at the marvel he was witnessing. He was seeing a Vulcan laughing.

_**His Vulcan woman laughing! **_

Hearing the splendour of that laugh made it abundantly clear to Trip why T'Pol couldn't smile, much less laugh in public. It wasn't because she was a Vulcan; it was because all creation wasn't ready for such a splendiferous wonder. This could annihilate all things. Its dazzling glow would be dangerous for everyone and everything. Nobody and nothing would be able to bear its magnificent view.

And Trip had to fight to extremes to elude the overwhelming power of the T'Pol's laugh, whose effulgence would be with him forever.

And if someone can doubt all that, this someone doesn't know the power that a loved woman is able to exert over her loved one.

But there is another power which a loved woman is able to exert over her loved one. It's the power that T'Pol had wanted to savour over her Trip and which, now, was displaying itself in all its force.

T'Pol was exerting a power over him which was out of the world, a power made of resistless desire and consuming excitement, a power so intense that Trip almost wasn't able to fully recognize the supreme delight he was experiencing because of the feverous and still ingenuous way his T'Pol was playing with him. He almost wasn't able to indeed realize the way T'Pol was showing off herself for him, the actions she was doing for him.

He wasn't able to think about anything but one thing.

(*_Catch her, man, catch her! You must... you need to catch her! To have her! TO TAKE HER!_ _You have to win this love battle!_*)

And he darted again, brusquely, toward his desirous and still challenging prey.

But his hands missed their slippery and sensual target. Again.

T'Pol placed herself at a certain distance from Trip, who turned quickly toward her. Watching his visage, she was able to recognize that she had achieved her aim.

She now knew for sure that no other woman could be the mistress of her T'hai'la. No other woman could have the power over him she had.

A variety of expressions passed over his features, and T'Pol felt the same astonishment she experienced every time she had the opportunity to observe the unbelievable fluidity of Trip's facial mimicry. It was so distant from the Vulcan deadpan mask and - she smiled to herself - so relished by her; even more now that she was aware that she was the cause of Trip's multifaceted emotional visage. Now she could savour this melting sensation.

He felt frustration, that's for sure, because she was capable of escaping his attempts to catch her, but also amusement. And excitement, and gladness, and... pleasure.

Yes, he was pleased.

He was pleased by her love game and by her ability, her ability to think and to do and to lead it.

And once again the turmoil of contrasting emotions boiled inside her, because the feelings and the thoughts of her T'hai'la were the same as hers.

She felt surprised, pleasurably surprised, and glad and proud of her ability to lead their erotic duel and by the fact that she was initiating this amatory tourney, that simply she had been capable of imagining it and of doing it.

And, in addition, she felt more and more aroused - the same way her T'hai'la was feeling - by their love game and the thought that she was knowingly and delightfully delaying the inevitable end of this game. This end would be even more smashing because of this delicious amatory expectation for it.

And, finally, she felt marvellously delighted by the liberty she was experiencing, the liberty of doing what she was doing. And of giggling. Of laughing openly with joy and with happiness. With free and open Ashaya. For the first time in her life.

For her Ashayam and together with him. Thanks to him.

And this sensation was beyond words. Beyond any logic.

And while she was cautiously waiting for the next move of her welcome predator, she realized fully and lucently, at last, how her old self had been right.

It wasn't emotions which scared her. In reality, she had had them since the beginning of her life. To blame Trellium for that was illogical. And stupid. And inane.

She had searched for them.

Because she wanted Trip.

And Trip, the man who had turned her into the new and happy woman she was now, was the source and the refuge... the end itself... of her emotions.

A fervid thought seized her brain, while she watched her Trip gather himself again to pounce.

She had fought against her own essence because she was afraid of being different from the other Vulcans, from the other Vulcan females, because her... destiny was a Human male. _**That**_ Human male.

But she wasn't the one who was different from the other Vulcan females, _**they**_ were different from her.

And she felt pity for them.

They didn't have Trip.

Then she stopped to think. She still had to engage in combat. And her T'hai'la's expression told her that he was going to cease to be a gentleman.

But she would fight to the death, and she was determined.

Yes, she would sell her skin at great cost.

At least ten thousand caresses and one hundred thousand kisses.

She scrutinized her T'hai'la while he almost cringed and then lunged at her, brusquely and impetuously, his arms outstretched, his hands open to grasp her.

His dive was sudden and ferine and then she felt his arms around her.

But she managed to slip out of his grasp and ran quickly away from him.

She turned swiftly toward him while he, panting and grinding his teeth, was turning round, in turn, to see her.

"Ah, no! Not yet! Too easy, my T'hai'la." T'Pol pointed cheekily to her body with both hands. "You have to deserve all this."

Trip's delight at her gesture and at her words surmounted his love fury, and T'Pol's wonders of that first shore leave night together were not yet at an end.

She was near her travel bag, upon which she had placed her hat.

Without breaking eye contact with him, she stretched out her hand and grasped the hat, bringing it up and shoving it on her head.

She brought her right hand to the hat's brim, pinching it between her fingers while her left hand rested effortlessly on her nude hip.

She looked cattily at Trip. "I saw many Human magazines during my time on Earth and I observed them carefully. There were many peculiar magazines which showed some equally peculiar girls on their covers; they were called Cover Girls. I remember one of them, very famous by all appearances, who was dr... undressed like me and was displaying herself in this way."

Trip was wondering how a woman could smile without... smiling.

While Trip was marvelling at her ability to be sexy and naïve at the same time, T'Pol asked in an innocent yet leery way, "Do you think, Ashayam, that I would cut a bad figure in comparison?"

Trip was beyond his ability to restrain himself. He looked, eyes wide open, at the woman who was intentionally trying to provoke him. Even nude, she still managed to remain so naturally sinless.

And he felt immensely proud that she was his.

And immensely aroused.

And immensely determined to achieve his purpose.

He snorted like a blustering bull and no longer attempted to surprise her.

He began to walk slowly toward T'Pol, step by step, till he was hunched up in front of her, close to her. He kept on advancing so that she was forced to retreat, step by step, until she found herself backed into a corner of the room.

She looked around, searching for a way to escape.

There was no way out.

She levelled her gaze at Trip's eyes, which were sparkling with triumph.

She tightened her eyes, dead set on fighting to the last breath. All of a sudden, she sprang up, trying to decamp, sneaking away along the wall, attempting to catch Trip off-guard.

But Trip wasn't taken by surprise.

His hand snapped out to block T'Pol.

But she was too quick.

But also Trip's hand was quick.

It managed to grab her shorts.

Vulcans are strong, that's a matter of fact.

But Trip was strong, too.

And those shorts... those shorts T'Pol had put on... they weren't very tough. They were a very light garment.

So...

There was a loud rip.

And Trip found himself with a pair of shorts hanging from his hand. And to tell the truth, not only the shorts.

He looked at his hand and then at T'Pol.

She had halted abruptly, just in front of the bed, and turned toward Trip.

She stared at Trip's hand, which was holding what remained of her shorts... and of her tiny underpants.

Then she lowered her eyes to her body, which now was unclothed between her sandals and her hat.

She levelled her saucer eyes at Trip.

"My shorts!"

Trip looked at T'Pol's body - sparkling, naked, lovely and marvellous - even more enticing now, in the moonlight, which was quietly filling the room. In the fairy-tale vision of her complete nudity, her body was framed within these two ultimate bastions: her sandals and her hat.

With the shorts and underpants still hanging from his motionless hand, he slipped his tongue along his dry lips.

"We... we... we can purchase another pair of shorts for you. Tomorrow. Together with my new shirt."

T'Pol brought her hands behind her, displaying her usual posture... and shamelessly showing her naked body to Trip.

She looked placidly though naughtily at him. "Will that be really necessary? Tomorrow we will begin my swimming lessons and I have the distinct impression that you would prefer to see me wearing a very tiny... bikini."

Trip grimaced mischievously at her. "Hon, to tell the truth, if you prefer me bare-chested, I prefer your buck-naked."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow, trying not to show too openly how she was feeling.

To no avail, because no one, especially Trip, would fail to notice that she was basking in the warming sensation that Trip's heartfelt words had given her.

Yes. She was luxuriating in those words and in the incomparably intimate and magical atmosphere which had enshrouded her and her T'hai'la.

And in so doing, she forgot to look out for the hidden intentions of her treacherous Mate.

Treacherous, just so, because while he was looking at T'Pol's dark eyes, shining with pride and delight at his patent admiration, Trip was adroitly circumventing his recalcitrant (so to speak) prey and was furtively gathering his forces for his last assault.

And it happened. Sudden and unstoppable. And T'Pol had no way to avoid it.

Like a dive bomber, he plunged toward T'Pol, his arms stretched forward, his body parallel to the ground, and he caught her, sending her flying backward onto the bed with her beneath him.

"Ooooohhhhh!"

This soft and prolonged shout escaped from T'Pol's mouth while she plummeted backwards onto the bed. Trip squashed her against the sheet; her hat rolled off her head and landed on the floor.

Trip raised his face from T'Pol's bosom, where it had plunged, and then he grabbed her hands so that they were constrained on the bed over her head.

He panted slightly, looking slyly and triumphantly at her.

His eyes shone victoriously. "You can't escape me now!"

T'Pol couldn't make even a minimal move; she was trapped beneath the body of her T'hai'la, her hands imprisoned above her head by Trip's hands.

Her eyes locked with his.

She spoke quietly, her mouth only an inch from his. "I don't have the smallest intention of trying to escape."

Trip chuckled, beckoning with his head and his eyes to her. "Did I deserve... all that?"

T'Pol throbbed beneath him. "You did."

Trip laughed gently. "In that case..." And he lowered his mouth to her mouth.

"Trip?"

"Mhhh... Hon?" It was difficult to stop what he had begun to do.

"Your moustache."

His head snapped up. The moustache! He was yet wearing it! That useless moustache which he had put on so as to hide who he was and which had wholly failed with the ticket officer. "Oh, excuse me, Darlin'! I forgot all about it."

Then he grinned at her. "Well, I had my good reasons."

He lifted his right hand from T'Pol's left hand and, grasping his false moustache, detached it from his lip and threw it on the ground. It landed next to his shirt, T'Pol's top tank and the remnants of her shorts and underpants.

Then he delicately placed his forefinger on her lips and stroked them gently.

He smirked. "Why didn't you warn me before? When we kissed each other?"

T'Pol moved her head slightly to better savour the sweet touch of his finger. "I... had my good reasons."

Trip chortled. "Understood, Hon." He kept on softly caressing her lips. "I'm displeased if I caused you to suffer from tickle."

T'Pol grasped his finger with her free hand. "Vulcans don't..."

Trip laughed chirpily. "I know. Vulcans don't and Vulcans don't and Vulcans don't and don't and don't, don't, don't, don't, don't, don't, don't...."

To T'Pol, the teasing tone of Trip's vocalization resounded like the cheerful peal of a bell, which was announcing that their time was at hand.

Still holding tightly to Trip's finger, she lifted her eyebrow, pretending to be irritated. "It's not just the matter of a tickle; the fact is that..." She moved her hand between their bodies. When it reached his belt, she began to unfasten it. "... I would like to have... full contact."

Trip got up on his knees, freeing her right hand. He placed his fists on his hips and, towering over her, looked down pointedly at her busy left hand. "Full contact?"

"Yes." T'Pol also brought her right hand to his belt.

Trip moved slightly to allow her to do her job. "I understand. This duel has to be played on equal terms."

"Exactly." T'Pol's hands achieved their aim.

Trip shifted to permit her to slide his trousers down ... and his underpants... until they were at his knees. "So, my shirt's off...your tank top is off."

"Yes." T'Pol began to slide Trip's trousers and underpants below his knees.

"And... your shorts are off..." Trip helped her achieve her goal.

"... and my underpants are together with them...," T'Pol said as she slid Trip's trousers and underpants over his already bare feet.

"... my trousers are off." Trip's trousers and underpants joined T'Pol's shorts and underpants on the ground.

"And your underpants are together with them." T'Pol grabbed his arms and pulled him on top of her.

While Trip settled comfortably upon her, she bent her knees and placed her feet on the bed. Spreading her thighs to make room for him between them, she held him tightly against her.

Trip whispered against her mouth. "Full contact, right?"

"Yes." Taking care to not lose any _full and... _**_hard_**_ contact_, she removed her sandals, the last thing standing between her and unabridged nakedness. The sandals joined the other stuff on the floor.

Trip slid his hands between her back and the sheet, pushing her against him. While placing many small kisses on her lips, he spoke under his breath. "I'll try to remember that."

Then he lowered his mouth - _in full contact_ - upon T'Pol's mouth.

And...

"Trip!"

"Ho... Ho... Hon?"

This time it was very difficult for Trip to interrupt this exacting activity, considering the new position in which he and T'Pol found themselves.

But, well, he was a gentleman.

He again raised his head and lifted himself onto his elbows. He was very careful to maintain as much of their full contact as possible.

To tell the truth, T'Pol also had the same preoccupation, judging by the way her thighs opened still further and her hands grasped his back.

Trip gazed down into T'Pol's liquid eyes, which were looking at his with a strange and indefinable expression.

"Hon?"

She sighed, and, indeed, it must be believed that Trip is a true gentleman because no one could imagine the effort he had to put forth to remain unmoved in that position, with his bare chest rubbing against T'Pol's bare bosom.

He repeated hoarsely. "H... Hon?

T'Pol tightened her lips. "Trip, you said..." Once again she displayed her unbelievable capacity for perfectly memorizing many things, even if she had heard them only one time. "... _When I was alone in my room, after each time I managed to make you un-Vulcan, I felt glad and uncomfortable at the same time. And at fault. And I promised myself that I would remedy that situation._"

Trip thought, in genuine wonder, that _Pico della Mirandola _should have been glad he had lived long before Humans met Vulcans because, in this case, he should match against T'Pol, and he would get defeated, that's for sure! (1)

"I... I did, Darlin'."

T'Pol held him even more tightly, if that was possible.

"You are mine, Ashayam."

Trip almost couldn't believe his ears at the blatant declaration of T'Pol. Not half-words, no middle ground. But that rang true. T'Pol was Vulcan and for Vulcans this is the logical road. When they see something as a certainty, when their logic takes them down the hard path to the ultimate truth, this truth becomes for them unswerving and unshakable. They are ready to proclaim and defend it in front of the whole universe.

And Trip felt immensely happy that T'Pol was Vulcan.

The firm and still sweet voice of T'Pol went on, while she was settling herself down so as to allow Trip to give her what she wanted and needed.

"You are mine and, as a Vulcan, I can't allow any other female to have even the smallest thought about you."

Jealousy? Any human jealousy would pale in comparison with Vulcan possessiveness. But all that Trip was able to think was that the sense of possession T'Pol had stated for him was the only thing he wanted.

He wanted to be hers, and he wanted her to assert her ownership without uncertainties and without doubts.

"You are mine."

T'Pol enunciated this for the third time as if she wanted to make Trip well aware that he should take this as an incontrovertible reality. In the meantime, she moved beneath him so as to give him cause... to really begin to believe the incontrovertible evidence of her statement.

She softened her tone, and, while she was attempting to resist her heartbreaking desire to open the doors of paradise to her T'hai'la, she murmured softly. "So if it happens that I must defend my possession of you, please, my T'hai'la, remember your promise, remember you said you would make up for your mistakes, and ...

But T'Pol had to stop suddenly because the demanding heat of Trip's hardness against her was too strong, and she was no longer capable of resisting it.

She opened herself abruptly and totally to her T'hai'la, allowing him finally to go through the doors of paradise.

She gasped at the splendiferous sensation she felt, a sensation that she knew would always be new, even if she lived for an eternity. An eternity with her Trip.

She tried to go on.

"... and... my... T'hai'la..."

But inevitably Trip began to powerfully make his way into and through the paradise he had lastly reached, and T'Pol found it very difficult to speak.

She tightened her thighs for a moment to stop the excruciating yet still enchanting job her T'hai'la was doing, so that she was capable of finishing her sentence.

"...you... m... my T'hai'la..."

She sighed again and... favoured him with a tender, kidding smile. Was this, by chance, what lit up T'Pol's visage?

"... you..."

And she managed to complete her phrase even though Trip had resumed their journey to paradise with all the strength and all the impetuosity that came from a long time spent waiting and wondering.

"... you, Ashayam, you... oohh... you have to avoid displaying that... ooohhh... that... **damned smug smile which**.... oooohhhh... which you showed off so shamelessly on your face when.... oooooohhhhhh ....when I told that Human female what... what... what I thought of her!"

Potency of the Bond: T'Pol capable of joking in _**that**_ situation, and Trip capable of thinking in _**that**_ situation!

Sure, because Trip found the force to respond, and quite logically, stopped his hard and still satisfactory job for a few moments.

"I... I'll try to remember that."

Then, while attempting to utterly achieve paradise also with his mouth, regaining full contact between his lips and T'Pol's lips, he murmured jocosely, "But I can't assure you.

And then he powerfully started once again to make his way through paradise's delights with renewed vigour.

And...

"Tr... Trip!"

Trip almost boggled.

And now? What the hell...

He was a gentleman, sure, but wasn't there a difference, in certain circumstances, between a gentleman and a thickhead, by chance?

But T'Pol's lips were still sweet on his mouth; she hadn't detached them from his.

And she was still holding him tightly to her with her arms. And her thighs still gaped for him and ... and she was still... large and wet and warm and welcoming around him. And responding to him.

So, what...?

T'Pol's hands framed his head and lifted it slightly so that their eyes were facing each other, so close that their noses were touching. At the same time, she was able to slow his passionate lovemaking so that she was able to find the strength to talk... coherently. At least a tiny bit.

Trip struggled to restrain his hankering. He stared into T'Pol's endlessly deep eyes and discerned something inside them that he had already seen before, but not to such an extent.

It was love, and lust. And happiness.

And passion.

He whispered on her lips. "Hon?"

T'Pol kept on gazing at him for awhile with that wonderful look, then she took his head in her arms and pressed it tightly against her.

Trip heard her soft voice in his ear, interspersed with the mild moans of their slow lovemaking.

"Trip, your... oohh... your speeches about the necessity for... ooohhh... iterated and exhaustive demonstrations..."

He was, again, all ears, even if he, too, had to endeavour to speak coherently. "Y... y... yes, H... hon?"

T'Pol took a deep breath, still holding him tightly, melting from the sweetly torturing sensation of his stone hardness inside her, trying to be a little intelligible.

"You... mmhh... You were right. I... I need... iterated and... exhaustive demonstrations. But... Oohh... but... "

Trip attempted to think lucidly and to speak understandably. "B... b... b... but?"

And... he was sure. There was another marvellous giggle coming from her, and it sounded splendid to his ears.

And much more enthralling were the pleasure groans which followed it, intermixed with his name, marvellously resounding on the kissable mouth of his unique love.

"Oh... oh, Trip!... oh, Trip!... Trip... Trip! Trip! Trip!"

Is there someone who is able to understand how a man feels when he senses his woman is so lost in the love they are making with each other?

Is there someone able to perceive, at least a tiny bit, the immeasurable pleasure, the joy, the full happiness that a man can feel when he hears his name repeatedly whispered on the lips of his woman as a sigh of blissfulness?

If there is this someone, he - maybe - could begin to understand what Trip was feeling, while he was seeing and hearing and perceiving his T'Pol at that moment.

And, for that, for completely feeling her ultimate pleasure, her surmounting delight, which was his own delight, he was capable of not completing, for now, his total conquest. His victory.

He wanted T'Pol to be able to express entirely and perfectly, if possible, what he had begun to understand she wanted to say.

And what he wanted to hear.

Slowly, T'Pol regained a bit of breath, and talked languidly, without changing position, savouring blissfully the sensation of her Trip inside her.

"I... don't think, T'hai'la... you are able to imagine... how... iterated and exhaustive... these... demonstrations... have to be."

Trip laughed quietly and raised his head, looking in T'Pol's smiling eyes. "Should I be worried?"

"Judging... from the past experience, I... don't think so. It was just... it was just a reminder."

Trip laughed again. "I'll try to remember that."

T'Pol dragged his face down to hers and placed her mouth on his mouth.

She kissed him as she had never kissed him before.

Then she wrapped her arms around his head again. When he buried his face in her neck, she closed her eyes in pure enjoyment.

Her voice was interwoven with the dream's weft while she spoke softly in the ear of her beloved.

"Don't... worry... my T'hai'la. I will ... I will take care... that you... don't forget that."

With that said she encircled his back with her legs and hooked her ankles behind him.

And she began to move slowly herself, up and down, using his back as leverage and creating inside Trip a sensation of melting pleasure that he knew, maybe through the Bond, she was feeling as well.

And with her body language, she invited him to take command.

One last dreamy and prolonged and unrestrainable whisper into Trip's ear.

Of pleasure.

Of enjoyment.

Of endearment.

Of joy.

Of bliss!

"My... Ashayam."

And this name, spoken with a sigh, was the last word of the night.

**

* * *

**

The End

* * *

Just so, my friends, that's the end. I thought I had to stop here, because... well!... because maybe Trip and T'Pol wouldn't be exactly pleased if I go on.

_And T'Pol's swimming lessons? No bikini for her?_ I can hear some complaints from some people.

Well, my friends... if somebody wants to know something about that, maybe I could think I may write yet something. But only if somebody wants me to do it, needless to say.

* * *

(1) Count Giovanni Pico della Mirandola (February 24, 1463 - November 17, 1494) was an Italian Renaissance philosopher. He is famed for the events of 1486, when at the age of 23, he proposed to defend 900 theses on religion, philosophy, natural philosophy and magic against all comers, for which he wrote the famous Oration on the Dignity of Man which has been called the "Manifesto of the Renaissance", and a key text of Renaissance humanism. What remained proverbial of "Pico della Mirandola" is his phenomenal memory: they say he knew by heart a lot of works, basis of his immense and encyclopaedic culture, and that he was able to recite the whole Divine Comedy, starting from the last verse and ending with the first, which he seemed to be capable of doing with whatever poem he just finished reading. Today there is still the habit of addressing whoever is provided of extraordinary memory as a "Pico della Mirandola".


End file.
